Percy&Marisol Jackson & the Olympians: SoM
by little-miss-fire-starter
Summary: Their second year together, the twins never get it easy. With Kronos on the rise, they're about to find more family, a dying friend ... tree if you like ... and a camp in need of saving. Let's hope the Jackson Twins can survive the Sea of Monsters. R
1. Disclaimer

So, I forgot to add this. I will. I am a fourteen year old girl writing fanfiction. I do not own the Percy Jackson and the Olympians series or any of its characters or the plot that those characters are a part of. Anything you find in any of the books does not belong to me, it belongs to Uncle Rick. My property = Marisol Jackson and my imagination.


	2. My Best Friend Shops For a Wedding Dress

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: SoM**

**Chapter Two**

**My Best Friend Shops for a Wedding Dress**

* * *

M**y** n**i**g**h**t**m**a**r**e **s**t**a**r**t**e**d** l**i**k**e** t**h**i**s**.

* * *

I was standing on a deserted street in some little beach town. It was the middle of the night. A storm was blowing. Wind and rain ripped at the palm trees along the sidewalk. Pink and yellow stucco buildings lined the street, their windows boarded up. A block away, past a line of hibiscus bushes, the ocean churned.

_Florida, _I thought. Though I wasn't sure how I knew that. I'd never been to Florida.

Then I heard hooves clattering against the pavement. I turned and saw my friend Grover running for his life.

* * *

I was walking down a dirt road looking for something. I wasn't quite sure what, but I think I knew where I was heading.

Home.

Traveling farther up the road I saw a grassy hill. Something was off. Though the grass was annoyingly long … it was yellow. I walked up the hill faster to find scorch marks everywhere and bits of broken weapons scattered around a lot more than before. I let my instincts take over and I ran up the hill. Straight into the arms of my ex-best friend slash brother.

Luke.

* * *

Yeah, I said _hooves._

Grover is a satyr. From the waist up, he looks like a typical gangly teenager with a peach-fuzz goatee and a bad case of acne. He walks with a strange limp, but unless you happen to catch him without his pants on (which I don't recommend), you'd never know there was anything un-human about him. Baggy jeans and fake feet hide the fact that he's got furry hindquarters and hooves.

Grover had been my best friend in sixth grade. He'd gone on this adventure with me, my long-lost twin sister Marisol, and a girl named Annabeth to save the world, but I hadn't seen him since last July, when he set off alone on a dangerous quest—a quest no satyr had ever returned from.

Anyway, in my dream, Grover was hauling goat tail, holding his human shoes in his hands the way he does when he needs to move fast. He clopped past the little tourist shops and surfboard rental places. The wind bent the palm trees almost to the ground.

Grover was terrified of something behind him. He must've just come from the beach. Wet sand was caked in his fur. He'd escaped from somewhere. He was trying to get away from ... something.

* * *

I was stupid to run into him. He caught my forearms in his hands and kept an iron grip on me, my struggling was useless.

"Long time no see squirt," he said to me as he flashed a friendly smile I'd seen so many times in my life. "How've ya been?"

"Don't play with me Luke," I growled as he lifted me by my arms with one hand. I'm light. I've been training since I was about a year old, I weigh maybe a hundred pounds. Luke weighs like, one-eighty since he's about eighteen and all. Picking me up was nothing to him.

"Sorry squirt, but there's something I need you to see," he said with a smirk. He snapped and my weapons appeared in his free hand. He tossed away my treasured dagger (a gift from my first brotherly figure and best friend Lucas who died after returning from a quest barely alive when I was six) and kept my pen (which turned into a sword when uncapped) firmly in his hand so that its magic wouldn't return it to my pocket.

He set me down and turned me, keeping a firm grip on me.

I nearly fainted at what I saw.

* * *

A bone-rattling growl cut through the storm. Behind Grover, at the far end of the block, a shadowy figure loomed. It swatted aside a street lamp, which burst in a shower of sparks.

Grover stumbled, whimpering in fear. He muttered to himself, _Have to get away. Have to warn them!_

I couldn't see what was chasing him, but I could hear it muttering and cursing. The ground shook as it got closer. Grover dashed around a street corner and faltered. He'd run into a dead-end courtyard full of shops. No time to back up. The nearest door had been blown open by the storm. The sign above the darkened display window read: ST. AUGUSTINE BRIDAL BOUTIQUE.

Grover dashed inside. He dove behind a rack of wedding dresses.

* * *

I looked at my home, the world within it dying. The grass was yellowing, the trees looked sick. The valley was dying, and everything was wrong.

"What have you done?" I shrieked as I tried to face Luke.

"Just making some … respectable revisions. After all, how can we destroy this place if its strong?" he asked. My anger finally let me snap out of his hold and I punched him in his evil face.

"You jerk! How could you?" I screamed. "I'm never going to help you! Percy and I are going to stop you!"

"Yes, a couple of thirteen year olds are going to stop a titan and me," he said with a roll of his blue eyes.

"Yes, that's _exactly_ whats going to happen. When it all comes down to the big fight, Percy can have Kronos, but you're all mine. When it all comes down to the end Luke, I'm going to show you why the good guys always win," I growled.

* * *

The monster's shadow passed in front of the shop. I could smell the thing—a sickening combination of wet sheep wool and rotten meat and that weird, sour, body odor only monsters can have, like a skunk that's been living off Mexican food.

Grover trembled behind the wedding dresses. The monster's shadow passed on. Silence except for the rain. Grover took a deep breath. Maybe the thing was gone.

Then lightning flashed. The entire front of the store exploded, and a monstrous voice bellowed: "MIIIIINE!"

* * *

"You would never raise your weapon against me," he shot back. "After all, you could have fought me when I gave you that dagger last summer. But you _let me get away_. So yeah, I'm pretty sure in the end you'll be on our side. After all, we're _family_."

"But you're the promise breaker," I accused. He flinched. One point Mari … about a hundred points Luke…

"Not if we're on the same side. So hold out for as long as you can. You know you'll never win."

He waved his doubly-deadly sword in front of me and disappeared.

With my head spinning, I bolted up in bed.

* * *

I sat bolt upright, shivering in my bed.

There was no storm. No monster.

* * *

No dying camp. No Luke.

Just me and my brother.

* * *

M**o**r**n**i**n**g **s**u**n**l**i**g**h**t **f**i**l**t**e**r**e**d **t**h**r**o**u**g**h** o**u**r **b**e**d**r**o**o**m** w**i**n**d**o**w**.

* * *

I thought I saw a shadow flicker across the glass—a humanlike shape. But then there was a knock on our bed room door—our mom called: "Percy, Mari, you're going to be late"—and the shadow at the window disappeared.

It must've been my imagination. A fifth-story window with a rickety old fire escape ... there couldn't have been anyone out there.

"Come on, kids," our mother called again. "Last day of school. You should be excited! You've almost made it!"

"Coming," I managed. My sister wordless got out of bed and walked over to the window. She opened it and stuck her head out.

*Nothing,* she whispered to me in my head. Yeah, twin link. Twin telepathy, twin this twin that, yeah. But over the last almost-year we've gotten used to it.

I felt under my pillow. My fingers closed reassuringly around the ballpoint pen I always slept with. I brought it out, studied the Ancient Greek writing engraved on the side: _Anaklusmos. _Riptide.

I thought about uncapping it, but something held me back. I hadn't used Riptide for so long….

Besides, my mom had made me (and Marisol, who disobeyed the rule since she didn't really care … or break vases or furniture when she did) promise not to use deadly weapons in the apartment after I'd swung a javelin the wrong way and taken out her china cabinet. I put Anaklusmos on my nightstand and dragged myself out of bed.

* * *

Percy left the bedroom with his clothes and sneakers and I ran to my bed and pulled my ballpoint pen out from beneath my pillow. I also pulled out the sheathed dagger and belted it around my waist before I put on some socks and stepped out onto the fire escape.

"There's no use in hiding," I said quietly. I uncapped my sword, _Parlía _(a.k.a. Seaside. Yes, I know, Percy and I have similar stuff. I blame dad.), and swung. The bronze blade hissed through the air and I felt it snag. It came back with a bloody tip.

"Son of a gorgon!" I heard a voice hiss. I froze.

"What are you doing here?" I asked as I looked in the direction of my swing.

"I need to warn you and Percy! It's about―"

"Camp?"

"Have you been having the dreams too?"

"Yeah. Meet me out front in ten. I have to go now," then I capped my sword, scrambled back into my room, and got dressed (after slamming the window).

* * *

I went to the bathroom with my clothing and got dressed as quickly as I could. I tried not to think about my nightmare or monsters or the shadow at my window.

_Have to get away. Have to warn them!_

What had Grover meant?

I made a three-fingered claw over my heart and pushed outward—an ancient gesture Grover had once taught me for warding off evil.

The dream couldn't have been real.

Last day of school. Our mom was right, I should have been excited. For the first time in my life, I'd almost made it an entire year without getting expelled. No weird accidents. No fights in the classroom. No teachers turning into monsters and trying to kill me with poisoned cafeteria food or exploding homework.

Oh, and my sister made it through her first half-year of school (insert small cheer). She had agreed to live with me and our mom a few days before her first Christmas knowing she had a brother. She attends an all-girls school somewhere in Queens, with a _uniform_. She also decided that from now on she'd stay at camp like I did, as a summer camper.

Tomorrow, we'd be on our way to my favorite place (and most likely hers since she's lived there for twelve years) in the world—Camp Half-Blood.

Only one more day to go. Surely even I couldn't mess that up.

As usual, I didn't have a clue how wrong I was.

My mom made blue waffles and blue eggs for breakfast. She's funny that way, celebrating special occasions with blue food. I think it's her way of saying anything is possible. Percy can pass seventh grade. Mari can live in the real world. Waffles can be blue. Little miracles like that.

My sister ran in, grabbed some food, said her goodbyes with kisses to all, then ran out of the apartment at full speed. I would have chased after her, but there was breakfast on the table.

* * *

I slid into the kitchen and grinned at my brother. The last day of school. Finally he could get away from those losers like Sloan, and I could ditch the itchy uniform. It was a plaid skirt and a navy blue polo. Ugly, I know. It was also all girls. Why my mom put us in schools for one gender each is beyond me, but I had to go to school if I wanted to live with Percy. Stupid compromise.

I swiped up a blue waffle with a blue egg on top, kissed my mother's cheek, and kissed my brother's head.

"I have to go meet Mel early, see ya later Perce," I called as I slid on my sneakers and grabbed my backpack. My mother tried to call me back and I just kept going (what? It's not like she's Chiron. She can't order me around or stuff). Then I ran out of the apartment.

* * *

I ate at the kitchen table while my mom washed dishes. She was dressed in her work uniform—a starry blue skirt and a red-and-white striped blouse she wore to sell candy at Sweet on America. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail.

The waffles tasted great, but I guess I wasn't digging in like I usually did. My mom looked over and frowned. "Percy, are you all right?"

"Yeah ... fine."

But she could always tell when something was bothering me. She dried her hands and sat down across from me. "School, or ..."

She didn't need to finish. I knew what she was asking.

"I think Grover's in trouble," I said, and I told her about my dream.

* * *

I finished my wafflegg and ran out of the apartment building only to crash into a wall of soft nothing. I fell to the floor and groaned for two reasons. One, my butt hurt now, and two … my school stuff went all over the place.

"Sorry, let me help," my friend said as they revealed themself and helped me pick up my things.

"Whoa, what happened to you?" I asked as I examined the state of ratty-injuries.

"Monsters have been chasing me from Virginia. Come on, we have to go. I think they're catching up. They've been trying to stop me from getting to you," and I was hugged.

"Missed you too. Is Will with you?" I asked out of habit. Will Solace, boyfriend of eleven months and two weeks, three days. We got together on the fourth of July so it's not hard to figure out how long it's been. Even if I'm dyslexic and bad with letters as well as numbers.

"No, why would he be―"

"Sorry. Force of habit," I muttered as I stood. My pal became invisible once more as I began walking toward the subway. "So you haven't seen camp?"

"Only in my dreams. It's bad Mari. Really bad."

I reached out blindly until my friend entered my embrace and I walked with my arm around their shoulders. To some people I probably just have my arm in the air but who cares what mortals think?

"Trust me," I sighed. "I know."

Then I spoke of my dream.

* * *

She pursed her lips. We didn't talk much about the _other _part of my life. We tried to live as normally as possible, but my mom knew all about Grover.

"I wouldn't be too worried, dear," she said. "Grover is a big satyr now. If there were a problem, I'm sure we would've heard from ... from camp..." Her shoulders tensed as she said the word _camp._

"What is it?" I asked.

"Nothing," she said. "I'll tell you what. This afternoon we'll celebrate the end of school. I'll take you, Mari, and Tyson to Rockefeller Center—to that skateboard shop you kids like."

Oh, man, that was tempting. We were always struggling with money. Between my mom's night classes and Mari's and my private school tuition, we could never afford to do special stuff like shop for a skateboard. But something in her voice bothered me.

"Wait a minute," I said. "I thought we were packing Mari and me up for camp tonight."

She twisted her dishrag. "Ah, dear, about that ... I got a message from Chiron last night."

My heart sank. Chiron was the activities director at Camp Half-Blood. He wouldn't contact us unless something serious was going on. "What did he say?"

*Something serious,* my sister thought. I could hear her trying not to laugh.

*Not funny.*

*Not to you.*

*Are you with Mel yet?*

*Gotta go, bye!*

*Mari don't you blink out on me!*

Silence. _Of course_, I thought with a sigh.

"He thinks ... it might not be safe for you two to come to camp just yet. We might have to postpone."

_"Postpone? _Mom, how could it not be _safe_? I'm a half-blood! She's a half-blood! We're half-blood! It's like the only safe place on earth for us!"

"Usually, dear. But with the problems they're having—"

"_What _problems?"

"Percy ... I'm very, very sorry. I was hoping to talk to you about it this afternoon. I can't explain it all now. I'm not even sure Chiron can. Everything happened so suddenly."

My mind was reeling. How could I, us, we _not _go to camp? I wanted to ask a million questions, but just then the kitchen clock chimed the half-hour.

My mom looked almost relieved. "Seven-thirty, dear. You should go. Tyson will be waiting."

"But—"

"Percy, we'll talk this afternoon. Go on to school."

That was the last thing I wanted to do, but my mom had this fragile look in her eyes—a kind of warning, like if I pushed her too hard she'd start to cry. Besides, she was right about my friend Tyson. I had to meet him at the subway station on time or he'd get upset. He was scared of traveling underground alone.

I gathered up my stuff, but I stopped in the doorway. "Mom, this problem at camp. Does it... could it have anything to do with my dream about Grover?"

She wouldn't meet my eyes. "We'll talk this afternoon, dear. I'll explain ... as much as I can."

Reluctantly, I told her good-bye. I jogged downstairs to catch the Number Two train.

I didn't know it at the time, but my mom and I would never get to have our afternoon talk.

In fact, I wouldn't be seeing home for a long, long time.

* * *

"Mari, Luke? Luke came to you?"

I nodded.

"Listen, Percy will be out in a minute. Keep an eye on him for me? I have to meet Mel. I might skip but I don't think I'd be able to hide from him. Call me if you need me, I'll be there as soon as possible," I said urgently. "I need to make sure Percy stays safe or we're doomed. But _don't _let him see you! At all, in anyway. Ever. Until later anyway."

I heard an invisible sigh. Then my friend gave in. "Fine."

I hugged invisibleness before thanking her.

"I owe you one," I called as I ran off to the subway.

* * *

As I stepped outside, I glanced at the brownstone building across the street. Just for a second I saw a dark shape in the morning sunlight—a human silhouette against the brick wall, a shadow that belonged to no one.

Then it rippled and vanished.


	3. I Play Dodgeball With Cannibals

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: SoM**

**Chapter Two**

**I Play Dodgeball with Cannibals**

* * *

My day started normal. Or as normal as it ever gets at Meriwether College Prep.

See, it's this "progressive" school in downtown Manhattan, which means we sit on beanbag chairs instead of at desks, and we don't get grades, and the teachers wear jeans and rock concert T-shirts to work.

That's all cool with me. I mean, I'm ADHD and dyslexic, like most half-bloods, so I'd never done that great in regular schools even before they kicked me out. The only bad thing about Meriwether was that the teachers always looked on the bright side of things, and the kids weren't always ... well, bright.

* * *

I sighed as I slammed my locker door shut and turned to face my best friend, Melissa Ramirez. He cheery, acne-coated face made me smile because really, this girl was great. Dark hair, pale skin, and brown eyes. She was an Italian girl, which was as rare as a half Greek, half Hispanic girl like me. Our school was more… white. Irish. Polish. We stuck out. A lot. Our teachers were alright, dressing formally but trying to act cool because we were in private school.

The girls were alright, but the uniforms didn't really make us equal like the school had hoped. There were the girls who made the skirts look good, girls who made pants look good, and girls who couldn't even make the ugly pants look good. While Mel fell into the good pants category, I fell into the good skirts category, along with our friend Br―

"Can we go get breakfast?"

Britt. I turned to face the bubbly blonde and nodded, mentally preparing myself for the last day of school.

* * *

Take my first class today: English. The whole middle school had read this book called _Lord of the Flies, _where all these kids get marooned on an island and go psycho.

So for our final exam, our teachers sent us into the break yard to spend an hour with no adult supervision to see what would happen. What happened was a massive wedgie contest between the seventh and eighth graders, two pebble fights, and a full-tackle basketball game.

The school bully, Matt Sloan, led most of those activities.

Sloan wasn't big or strong, but he acted like he was. He had eyes like a pit bull, and shaggy black hair, and he always dressed in expensive but sloppy clothes, like he wanted everybody to see how little he cared about his family's money. One of his front teeth was chipped from the time he'd taken his daddy's Porsche for a joyride and run into a PLEASE SLOW DOWN FOR CHILDREN sign.

* * *

I stared at the clock, annoyed that it was a half day yet we were only a period and a half through. We were allowed to roam around the school with friends to say goodbye to our teachers and such, until we had to go back to homeroom for the last hour of the day. I walked arm-in-arm with Mel and Britt, stuck in the middle of the two. As we made our way to the second floor, we found our path blocked by none others than Kayla, Catrina, and Melissa.

Let me explain.

Kayla-My competition in Latin class. Hello, I'm Greek. Being a demigod, all of the Latin words connect in my head, just not as _easily_ as the Greek. So I knew all the answers, and all the mythology we took up in the class. I was hated by little miss popular for this.

Catrina-Britt and mine's fellow cheerleader. Lets just say, when she was my back spot she "accidentally" _dropped_ me as I was being lifted into the air (I'm a flier) and instead of _my_ getting hurt, I landed on her and broke her wrist under my foot. She hates me for this, and Britt and I hate her since Britt was one of the girls putting me up into the air.

Melissa- The _Evil_ Melissa. She just doesn't like me because I told her when he stupid friends were talking about her, and they turned it on me saying I was a liar and a freak.

Not very pleasant. Us three, against those three.

* * *

Anyway, Sloan was giving everybody wedgies until he made the mistake of trying it on my friend Tyson.

Tyson was the only homeless kid at Meriwether College Prep. As near as my mom and I could figure, he'd been abandoned by his parents when he was very young, probably because he was so ... different."

He was six-foot-three and built like the Abominable Snowman, but he cried a lot and was scared of just about everything, including his own reflection.

His face was kind of misshapen and brutal-looking. I couldn't tell you what color his eyes were, because I could never make myself look higher than his crooked teeth. His voice was deep, but he talked funny, like a much younger kid—I guess because he'd never gone to school before coming to Meriwether. He wore tattered jeans, grimy size-twenty sneakers, and a plaid flannel shirt with holes in it. He smelled like a New York City alleyway, because that's where he lived, in a cardboard refrigerator box off 72nd Street.

Meriwether Prep had adopted him as a community service project so all the students could feel good about themselves. Unfortunately, most of them couldn't stand Tyson. Once they discovered he was a big softie, despite his massive strength and his scary looks, they made themselves feel good by picking on him. I was pretty much his only friend, which meant he was _my _only friend.

My mom had complained to the school a million times that they weren't doing enough to help him. She'd called social services, but nothing ever seemed to happen. The social workers claimed Tyson didn't exist. They swore up and down that they'd visited the alley we described and couldn't find him, though how you miss a giant kid living in a refrigerator box, I don't know.

Anyway, Matt Sloan snuck up behind him and tried to give him a wedgie, and Tyson panicked. He swatted Sloan away a little too hard. Sloan flew fifteen feet and got tangled in the little kids' tire swing.

* * *

I sighed, staring at the 'popular' girls of our school.

"What do you want slags?" I asked tiredly, unlinking my arms from that of my friends. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at them.

"Easy, we just wanted to say a little … _see ya next year_," Kayla sneered. My ADHD seemed to go into hyper drive and I immediately grabbed my friends and shoved them backwards. My hand flew to my skirt pocket, but I found myself pinned to a wall with a burning sensation at my neck. I heard shrieking and I felt an intense heat. My eyes opened to see a head of fiery hair … literally. I kicked, hearing a metal clang and the scratchy feeling of goat fur. The burning in my neck… aw man! I'm being attacked by an Empousa who is currently drinking my blood.

Wait … don't they drink the blood of guys they seduce? I'm not a guy … at least, I _hope_ I'm not because then I've got quite a bone to pick with_ mother nature_ about that stupid monthly _gift._

Whoa, my mind is weird. Anyway, back to the she demon draining me of my blood.

* * *

"You freak!" Sloan yelled. "Why don't you go back to your cardboard box!"

Tyson started sobbing. He sat down on the jungle gym so hard he bent the bar, and buried his head in his hands.

"Take it back, Sloan!" I shouted. A throbbing filled my head and neck, and red filled my vision, I tried to think straight.

Sloan just sneered at me. "Why do you even bother, Jackson? You might have _friends _if you weren't always sticking up for that freak."

I balled my fists. I hoped my face wasn't as red as it felt. "He's _not _a freak. He's just..."

I tried to think of the right thing to say, but Sloan wasn't listening. He and his big ugly friends were too busy laughing. I wondered if it were my imagination, or if Sloan had more goons hanging around him than usual. I was used to seeing him with two or three, but today he had like, half a dozen more, and I was pretty sure I'd never seen them before.

"Just wait till PE, Jackson," Sloan called. "You are _so _dead."

When first period ended, our English teacher, Mr. de Milo, came outside to inspect the carnage. He pronounced that we'd understood _Lord of the Flies _perfectly. We all passed his course, and we should never, never grow up to be violent people.

Matt Sloan nodded earnestly, then gave me a chip-toothed grin.

I had to promise to buy Tyson an extra peanut butter sandwich at lunch to get him to stop sobbing.

"I ... I am a freak?" he asked me.

"No," I promised, gritting my teeth. "Matt Sloan is the freak."

Tyson sniffled. "You are a good friend. Miss you next year if ... if I can't ..."

His voice trembled. I realized he didn't know if he'd be invited back next year for the community service project. I wondered if the headmaster had even bothered talking to him about it.

"Don't worry, big guy," I managed. "Everything's going to be fine."

* * *

_Everything's going to be fine_, I thought to myself, my vision tinting red. I heard my friend screaming and as I caught a glance I spotted them being cornered by Melissa and Catrina. Wonderful.

My mind snapped back to the fact that I was currently in the process of dying, and I let my hand slip to my thigh. I reached around for a second before managing to lock my hand around the hilt of my dagger. Pulling it from its sheath at my thigh, I brought it up in a stabbing motion, letting it settle into Kayla's abdomen. In a flash, I was covered in gross gold sulfuric powder. Ew, of all things, I just _had_ to get covered in Kayla-dust.

* * *

Tyson gave me such a grateful look I felt like a big liar. How could I promise a kid like him that _anything _would be fine?

Our next exam was science. Mrs. Tesla told us that we had to mix chemicals until we succeeded in making something explode, Tyson was my lab partner. His hands were way too big for the tiny vials we were supposed to use. He accidentally knocked a tray of chemicals off the counter and made an orange mushroom cloud in the trash can.

After Mrs. Tesla evacuated the lab and called the hazardous waste removal squad, she praised Tyson and me for being natural chemists. We were the first ones who'd ever aced her exam in under thirty seconds.

I was glad the morning went fast, because it kept me from thinking too much about my problems. I couldn't stand the idea that something might be wrong at camp. Even worse, I couldn't shake the memory of my bad dream. I had a terrible feeling that Grover was in danger.

In social studies, while we were drawing latitude/longitude maps, I opened my notebook and stared at the photo inside—my friend Annabeth on vacation in Washington, D.C. She was wearing jeans and a denim jacket over her orange Camp Half-Blood T-shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a bandanna. She was standing in front of the Lincoln Memorial with her arms crossed, looking extremely pleased with herself, like she'd personally designed the place.

See, Annabeth wants to be an architect when she grows up, so she's always visiting famous monuments and stuff. She's weird that way.

She'd e-mailed me the picture after spring break, and every once in a while I'd look at it just to remind myself she was real and Camp Half-Blood hadn't just been my imagination. Besides that, there was also the fact that I'd gotten a twin sister … so that made Camp feel pretty real too … since that's where we found each other.

I wished Annabeth were here. She'd know what to make of my dream. I'd never admit it to her, but she was smarter than me, even if she was annoying sometimes.

*So I'm no help to you? I'm smarter than you too,* I heard my sister huff into my head. I rolled my eyes.

*Yeah but I'm sure you have your own nightmares to deal with,* I murmuered back, glancing at the picture one last time.

*Kinda living a nightmare right now, assistance would be useful,* I heard. Her voice was breathy, out of energy. I moved to close the binder, getting worried.

*What are you―"

I was about to close my notebook when Matt Sloan reached over and ripped the photo out of the rings.

"Hey!" I protested.

Sloan checked out the picture and his eyes got wide. "No way, Jackson. Who is that? She is _not _your—"

"Give it back!" My ears felt hot.

*Bigger problems here Seaweed Brain!*

*Right… One sec.*

Sloan handed the photo to his ugly buddies, who snickered and started ripping it up to make spit wads. They were new kids who must've been visiting, because they were all wearing those stupid HI! MY NAME IS: tags from the admissions office. They must've had a weird sense of humor, too, because they'd all filled in strange names like: MARROW SUCKER, SKULL EATER, and JOE BOB. No human beings had names like that.

*Speaking of no human beings …. KIND OF GETTING MURDERED OVER HERE!*

"These guys are moving here next year," Sloan bragged, like that was supposed to scare me. "I bet they can _pay _the tuition, too, unlike your retard friend."

"He's _not _retarded." I had to try really, really hard not to punch Sloan in the face.

*PUNCH HIM AND GET TO MY SCHOOL LIKE RIGHT NOW PERSEUS JACKSON OR I'LL …. Wait never mind. Carry on, love ya bro.*

I sighed on the inside, trying to picture what was happening both here and with my sister. I stayed focused on Sloan.

"You're such a loser, Jackson. Good thing I'm gonna put you out of your misery next period."

His huge buddies chewed up my photo. I wanted to pulverize them, but I was under strict orders from Chiron never to take my anger out on regular mortals, no matter how obnoxious they were. I had to save my fighting for monsters.

Still, part of me thought, if Sloan only knew who I really was ...

The bell rang.

* * *

I moved over to the monsters who were in the middle of messing with Britt and Mel, praying that my best friends were totally mortal.

"You know, demigod blood tastes a lot better than mortal blood," I called, wiping the blood from my neck. Melissa and Catrina turned to me, reed eyes blazing.

"What did you do to―" The dagger found itself clattering to the ground in a pile of gold Catrina dust and I sighed, thinking of having to clean it later.

"Mari whats going on?" I heard Britt whimper. Poor girl. By the fear in her eyes, I could tell she could see the she demons for what they were.

"I'll explain―" I dodged a swipe from Melissa, "―later. Now… run."

I pulled a pen from my pocket, throwing off the cap and letting the shimmering bronze sword sprout from it. I swung it in a circle a few times, staring at Melissa the Empousa.

* * *

As Tyson and I were leaving class, a girl's voice whispered, "Percy!"

I looked around the locker area, but nobody was paying me any attention. Like any girl at Meriwether would ever be caught dead calling my name.

Before I had time to consider whether or not I'd been imagining things, a crowd of kids rushed for the gym, carrying Tyson and me along with them. It was time for PE. Our coach had promised us a free-for-all dodgeball game, and Matt Sloan had promised to kill me.

The gym uniform at Meriwether is sky blue shorts and tie-dyed T-shirts. Fortunately, we did most of our athletic stuff inside, so we didn't have to jog through Tribeca looking like a bunch of boot-camp hippie children.

I changed as quickly as I could in the locker room because I didn't want to deal with Sloan. I was about to leave when Tyson called, "Percy?"

He hadn't changed yet. He was standing by the weight room door, clutching his gym clothes. "Will you ... uh ..."

"Oh. Yeah." I tried not to sound aggravated about it. "Yeah, sure, man."

Tyson ducked inside the weight room. I stood guard outside the door while he changed. I felt kind of awkward doing this, but he asked me to most days. I think it's because he's completely hairy and he's got weird scars on his back that I've never had the courage to ask him about.

Anyway, I'd learned the hard way that if people teased Tyson while he was dressing out, he'd get upset and start ripping the doors off lockers.

When we got into the gym, Coach Nunley was sitting at his little desk reading _Sports Illustrated. _Nunley was about a million years old, with bifocals and no teeth and a greasy wave of gray hair. He reminded me of the Oracle at Camp Half-Blood—which was a shriveled-up mummy—except Coach Nunley moved a lot less and he never billowed green smoke.

Well, at least not that I'd observed.

Matt Sloan said, "Coach, can I be captain?"

"Eh?" Coach Nunley looked up from his magazine. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Mm-hmm."

Sloan grinned and took charge of the picking. He made me the other team's captain, but it didn't matter who I picked, because all the jocks and the popular kids moved over to Sloan's side. So did the big group of visitors.

On my side I had Tyson, Corey Bailer the computer geek, Raj Mandali the calculus whiz, and a half dozen other kids who always got harassed by Sloan and his gang. Normally I would've been okay with just Tyson—he was worth half a team all by himself—but the visitors on Sloan's team were almost as tall and strong-looking as Tyson, and there were six of them.

Matt Sloan spilled a cage full of balls in the middle of the gym.

"Scared," Tyson mumbled. "Smell funny."

I looked at him. "What smells funny?" Because I didn't figure he was talking about himself.

"Them." Tyson pointed at Sloan's new friends. "Smell funny."

The visitors were cracking their knuckles, eyeing us like it was slaughter time. I couldn't help wondering where they were from. Someplace where they fed kids raw meat and beat them with sticks.

Sloan blew the coach's whistle and the game began. Sloan's team ran for the center line. On my side, Raj Mandali yelled something in Urdu, probably "I have to go potty!" and ran for the exit. Corey Bailer tried to crawl behind the wall mat and hide. The rest of my team did their best to cower in fear and not look like targets.

"Tyson," I said. "Let's g—"

A ball slammed into my gut. I sat down hard in the middle of the gym floor. The other team exploded in laughter.

My eyesight was fuzzy. I felt like I'd just gotten the Heimlich maneuver from a gorilla. I couldn't believe anybody could throw that hard.

Tyson yelled, "Percy, duck!"

I rolled as another dodgeball whistled past my ear at the speed of sound.

_Whooom!_

* * *

_Whooom! _ I heard in my head. I was currently doubled over on the ground, clutching my stomach. I felt as though somebody had slammed a table into my abdomen, then dropped a wall of lockers on me. I heard the laughter of the last she demon and heavy footsteps got nearer. Of course, being a demon with a goat leg, donkey leg, whatever, and a bronze leg, made it hard to walk _quietly_ but I wasn't complaining. We weren't in the library.

"You know, I figured it'd be easy to kill you. Seeing you take out my sisters proves me wrong I guess, but it shouldn't be hard to finish the job. After all, once we kill you all we have to do is kill that brother of yours."

My heart clenched. A burning filled my chest. "_If you even touch my brother_," I growled, "I'll make sure you _never_ get out of tartarus _ever again_."

I sliced at her feet. She jumped back and laughed.

* * *

It hit the wall mat, and Corey Bailer yelped.

"Hey!" I yelled at Sloan's team. "You could kill somebody!"

The visitor named Joe Bob grinned at me evilly. Somehow, he looked a lot bigger now ... even taller than Tyson. His biceps bulged beneath his T-shirt. "I hope so, Perseus Jackson! I hope so!"

The way he said my name sent a chill down my back. Nobody called me Perseus except those who knew my true identity. Friends ... and enemies.

What had Tyson said? _They smell funny._

Monsters.

All around Matt Sloan, the visitors were growing in size. They were no longer kids. They were eight-foot-tall giants with wild eyes, pointy teeth, and hairy arms tattooed with snakes and hula women and Valentine hearts.

Matt Sloan dropped his ball. "Whoa! You're not from Detroit! Who …"

The other kids on his team started screaming and backing toward the exit, but the giant named Marrow Sucker threw a ball with deadly accuracy. It streaked past Raj Mandali just as he was about to leave and hit the door, slamming it shut like magic. Raj and some of the other kids banged on it desperately but it wouldn't budge.

"Let them go!" I yelled at the giants.

The one called Joe Bob growled at me. He had a tattoo on his biceps that said_: JBluvsBabycakes. _"And lose our tasty morsels? No, Son of the Sea God. We Laistrygonians aren't just playing for your death. We want lunch!"

He waved his hand and a new batch of dodgeballs appeared on the center line—but these balls weren't made of red rubber. They were bronze, the size of cannon balls, perforated like riffle balls with fire bubbling out the holes. They must've been searing hot, but the giants picked them up with their bare hands.

"Coach!" I yelled.

Nunley looked up sleepily, but if he saw anything abnormal about the dodgeball game, he didn't let on. That's the problem with mortals. A magical force called the Mist obscures the true appearance of monsters and gods from their vision, so mortals tend to see only what they can understand. Maybe the coach saw a few eighth graders pounding the younger kids like usual. Maybe the other kids saw Matt Sloan's thugs getting ready to toss Molotov cock tails around. (It wouldn't have been the first time.) At any rate, I was pretty sure nobody else realized we were dealing with genuine man-eating bloodthirsty monsters.

"Yeah. Mm-hmm," Coach muttered. "Play nice."

And he went back to his magazine.

The giant named Skull Eater threw his ball. I dove aside as the fiery bronze comet sailed past my shoulder.

"Corey!" I screamed.

Tyson pulled him out from behind the exercise mat just as the ball exploded against it, blasting the mat to smoking shreds.

"Run!" I told my teammates. "The other exit!"

They ran for the locker room, but with another wave of Joe Bob's hand, that door also slammed shut.

"No one leaves unless you're out!" Joe Bob roared. "And you're not out until we eat you!"

He launched his own fireball. My teammates scattered as it blasted a crater in the gym floor.

I reached for Riptide, which I always kept in my pocket, but then I realized I was wearing gym shorts.

I _had _no pockets. Riptide was tucked in my jeans inside my gym locker. And the locker room door was sealed. I was completely defenseless.

* * *

"Well, see dear, I don't _have_ to touch him. We've got some giants doing that for us," she sneered. I gave a sigh or frustration, pushing myself onto my forearms. Pushing off the ground, I stared at her. My school uniform was tattered, my skirt torn here and there. Her uniform was untouched. I would happily change that.

"See dear, I don't _have_ to kill you with this sword," I murmured, moving to the pile of Catrina dust. She noticed my move toward the pile of dust that was holding my dagger. She lunged for it, and as she did, I slashed my sword through her neck. As she turned to dust, I grinned triumphantly. "I just _want_ to."

* * *

Another fireball came streaking toward me. Tyson pushed me out of the way, but the explosion still blew me head over heels. I found myself sprawled on the gym floor, dazed from smoke, my tie-dyed T-shirt peppered with sizzling holes. Just across the center line, two hungry giants were glaring down at me.

"Flesh!" they bellowed. "Hero flesh for lunch!" They both took aim.

"Percy needs help!" Tyson yelled, and he jumped in front of me just as they threw their balls.

"Tyson!" I screamed, but it was too late.

Both balls slammed into him ... but no ... he'd caught them. Somehow Tyson, who was so clumsy he knocked over lab equipment and broke playground structures on a regular basis, had caught two fiery metal balls speeding toward him at a zillion miles an hour.

He sent them hurtling back toward their surprised owners, who screamed, "BAAAAAD!" as the bronze spheres exploded against their chests.

The giants disintegrated in twin columns of flame—a sure sign they were monsters, all right. Monsters don't die. They just dissipate into smoke and dust, which saves heroes a lot of trouble cleaning up after a fight.

"My brothers!" Joe Bob the Cannibal wailed. He flexed his muscles and his _Babycakes _tattoo rippled. "You will pay for their destruction!"

"Tyson!" I said. "Look out!"

Another comet hurtled toward us. Tyson just had time to swat it aside. It flew straight over Coach Nunley's head and landed in the bleachers with a huge KA-BOOM!

Kids were running around screaming, trying to avoid the sizzling craters in the floor. Others were banging on the door, calling for help. Sloan himself stood petrified in the middle of the court, watching in disbelief as balls of death flew around him.

Coach Nunley still wasn't seeing anything. He tapped his hearing aid like the explosions were giving him interference, but he kept his eyes on his magazine.

Surely the whole school could hear the noise. The head master, the police, somebody would come help us.

"Victory will be ours!" roared Joe Bob the Cannibal. "We will feast on your bones!"

I wanted to tell him he was taking the dodgeball game way too seriously, but before I could, he hefted another ball. The other three giants followed his lead.

* * *

I picked up my dagger and wiped it on my skirt before sliding it back into the sheath at my thigh. I capped my sword and stuck it in my pocket, stumbling back to the cafeteria. Walking through the doorways, I saw everybody turn to stare. My friends rushed toward me and dragged me to the nurse's office. I smiled at the male nurse. He was blonde. He had blue eyes. He had a … sunny personality. He liked bad poetry. He liked music.

"Ladies, return to the cafeteria and I'll take care of miss Jackson," he said charmingly. I rolled my eyes as they swooned and exited the room.

"Just get me some nectar and a ride to Tribeca please?" I asked weakly. He nodded, going to his desk and unlocking a golden drawer. He handed me a thermos and I took a drink from it.

"Just go down to the subway and take the A-Train," he said as he handed me a backpack. I nodded, getting up without question. The thing is, the subway only held the E and F trains. I took the bag and walked to the door, turning back to thank him.

"Thanks Apollo."

He nodded.

"Just this once, because we're cousins," he said. I nodded, turning and leaving. I managed to board a golden train, the A Train, and as I entered, the doors slid shut. The train shot forward, throwing me back.

_Of course, _I thought to myself as I got up, _he gives me the train of death by super-speed. Percy better be alive when I get to his stupid school._

* * *

I knew we were dead. Tyson couldn't deflect all those balls at once. His hands _had _to be seriously burned from blocking the first volley. Without my sword ...

I had a crazy idea.

I ran toward the locker room.

"Move!" I told my teammates. "Away from the door."

Explosions sounded behind me. Tyson had batted two of the balls back toward their owners and blasted them to ashes.

That left two giants still standing.

A third ball hurtled straight at me. I forced myself to wait—one Mississippi, two Mississippi—then dove aside as the fiery sphere demolished the locker room door.

Now, I figured that the built-up gas in most boys' locker rooms was enough to cause an explosion, so I wasn't surprised when the flaming dodgeball ignited a huge _WHOOOOOOOM!_

The wall blew apart. Locker doors, socks, athletic sup porters, and other various nasty personal belongings rained all over the gym.

I turned just in time to see Tyson punch Skull Eater in the face. The giant crumpled. But the last giant, Joe Bob, had wisely held on to his own ball, waiting for an opportunity. He threw just as Tyson was turning to face him.

"No!" I yelled.

The ball caught Tyson square in the chest. He slid the length of the court and slammed into the back wall, which cracked and partially crumbled on top of him, making a hole right onto Church Street. I didn't see how Tyson could still be alive, but he only looked dazed. The bronze ball was smoking at his feet. Tyson tried to pick it up, but he fell back, stunned, into a pile of cinder blocks.

"Well!" Joe Bob gloated. "I'm the last one standing! I'll have enough meat to bring Babycakes a doggie bag!"

He picked up another ball and aimed it at Tyson.

"Stop!" I yelled. "It's me you want!"

The giant grinned. "You wish to die first, young hero?"

I had to do something. Riptide had to be around here somewhere.

Then I spotted my jeans in a smoking heap of clothes right by the giant's feet. If I could only get there... I knew it was hopeless, but I charged.

The giant laughed. "My lunch approaches." He raised his arm to throw. I braced myself to die.

Suddenly the giant's body went rigid. His expression changed from gloating to surprise. Right where his belly button should've been, his T-shirt ripped open and he grew something like a horn—no, not a horn—the glowing tip of a blade.

The ball dropped out of his hand. The monster stared down at the knife that had just run him through from behind.

He muttered, "Ow," and burst into a cloud of green flame, which I figured was going to make Babycakes pretty upset.

Standing in the smoke was my friend Annabeth. Her face was grimy and scratched.

She had a ragged backpack slung over her shoulder, her baseball cap tucked in her pocket, a bronze knife in her hand, and a wild look in her storm-gray eyes, like she'd just been chased a thousand miles by ghosts.

Matt Sloan, who'd been standing there dumbfounded the whole time, finally came to his senses. He blinked at Annabeth, as if he dimly recognized her from my notebook picture. "That's the girl ... That's the girl—"

Annabeth punched him in the nose and knocked him flat.

"And _you," _she told him, "lay off my friend."

The gym was in flames. Kids were still running around screaming. I heard sirens wailing and a garbled voice over the intercom. Through the glass windows of the exit doors, I could see the headmaster, Mr. Bonsai, wrestling with the lock, a crowd of teachers piling up behind him.

"Annabeth ..." I stammered. "How did you ... how long have you ..."

"Pretty much all morning." She sheathed her bronze knife. "I've been trying to find a good time to talk to you, but you were never alone."

"The shadow I saw this morning—that was—" My face felt hot. "Oh my gods, you were looking in my bed room window?"

"There's no time to explain!" she snapped, though she looked a little red-faced herself. "I just didn't want to—"

* * *

I ran toward the school, seeing flames through a hole in the wall. _Of course he blows up his school_, I thought to myself with a snicker. Jumping through the heated hole in the wall, I saw Annabeth's ragged form and my somewhat panicky brother. Rushing over, I gave him a whack over the head.

"You doofus!" I shrieked. "I at least had the decency to leave my school intact."

He didn't even whack my back like he normally did (aye we're demigods. We whack each other and it doesn't hurt). He decided to crush my bones in a hug, which I wasn't too happy about because my ribs hurt.

He released me and looked at Annabeth. I noticed both of them where rather red faced. I guess he found out about her _peeping into our window_.

* * *

"There!" a woman screamed. The doors burst open and the adults came pouring in.

"Meet me outside," Annabeth told me. "And him." She pointed to Tyson, who was still sitting dazed against the wall. Annabeth gave him a look of distaste that I didn't quite understand. "You'd better bring him."

_"What?"_

"No time!" she said. "Hurry!"

She put on her Yankees baseball cap, which was a magic gift from her mom, and instantly vanished. Something grabbed my sister's hand, Annabeth I'm sure, and dragged her out of the gymnasium.

That left me standing alone in the middle of the burning gymnasium when the headmaster came charging in with half the faculty and a couple of police officers.

"Percy Jackson?" Mr. Bonsai said. "What ... how ..."

Over by the broken wall, Tyson groaned and stood up from the pile of cinder blocks. "Head hurts."

Matt Sloan was coming around, too. He focused on me with a look of terror. "Percy did it, Mr. Bonsai! He set the whole building on fire. Coach Nunley will tell you! He saw it all!"

Coach Nunley had been dutifully reading his magazine, but just my luck—he chose that moment to look up when Sloan said his name. "Eh? Yeah. Mm-hmm."

The other adults turned toward me. I knew they would never believe me, even if I could tell them the truth.

I grabbed Riptide out of my ruined jeans, told Tyson, "Come on!" and jumped through the gaping hole in the side of the building.


	4. We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Tourment

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: SoM**

**Chapter Three**

**We Hail the Taxi of Eternal Torment**

* * *

Annabeth was waiting for us in an alley down Church Street. She pulled Tyson, my sister, and me off the sidewalk just as a fire truck screamed past, heading for Meriwether Prep.

"Where'd you find _him_?" she demanded, pointing at Tyson. Mari looked at him, then glared at me.

"I'd like to know the same thing," she growled.

Now, under different circumstances, I would've been really happy to see them. Both of them, since my sister was usually off doing demigod things in her spare time. Annabeth and I had made our peace last summer, despite the fact that her mom was Athena and didn't get along with my dad. I'd missed Annabeth probably more than I wanted to admit.

*She's missable like that when she doesn't get on your nerves,* Mari agreed.

But I'd just been attacked by cannibal giants, Tyson had saved my life three or four times, and all Annabeth and Marisol could do was glare at him like _he _was the problem.

*Well he's _a_ problem,* Mari growled quietly.

"He's my friend," I told them, shooting my sister a look.

"Is he homeless?" Annabeth asked.

"What does that have to do with anything? He can hear you, you know. Why don't you ask him?"

"Of course he is," Mari said casually. "Nobody in their right mind would take one in even if they didn't know."

Annabeth looked surprised. "He can talk?"

"I talk," Tyson admitted. "You are pretty."

"Ah! Gross!" Annabeth stepped away from him. Mari crinkled her nose, taking a step behind me.

I couldn't believe these two were being so rude. I examined Tyson's hands, which I was sure must've been badly scorched by the flaming dodge balls, but they looked fine—grimy and scarred, with dirty fingernails the size of potato chips—but they always looked like that. "Tyson," I said in disbelief. "Your hands aren't even burned."

"Of course not," Annabeth muttered. "I'm surprised the Laistrygonians had the guts to attack you with him around." Tyson seemed fascinated by Annabeth's blond hair. He tried to touch it, but she smacked his hand away. Mari rolled her eyes with a small huff.

"Sadly I didn't have a monster body guard around at _my _school. Or a Percy. I mean, if I did those stupid Empousi wouldn't have nearly sucked my best friends and I dry," Mari growled angrily as she picked at her nails. Annabeth and I turned to her and she waved a hand easily. "Story for later."

"Annabeth," I said as I turned to her, "what are you talking about? Laistry-what?"

"Laistrygonians. The monsters in the gym. They're a race of giant cannibals who live in the far north. Odysseus ran into them once, but I've never seen them as far south as New York before."

"Laistry—I can't even say that. What would you call them in English?"

Marisol began to laugh. "We call 'em Canadians," she snickered. "Now come on, we have to get out of here."

"The police'll be after me." I argued. Marisol rolled her eyes.

* * *

I swear my brother is so dense. First, I'm attacked by the she-demons. Next, well sorta during, he's attacked by the Canadians, and finally we're going to have to go to camp. Is he seriously worried about _mortals_?

*You were worried about your mortal friends,* he argued. I gave him a mental hit to the shoulder.

*Yeah but those are actually important mortals. Cops are nothing,* I shrugged. Excuse my attitude, but I wasn't in the mood to be attacked then see _another_ monster hanging out with my brother like they were _friends_. Not this kind of monster. Bad memories there. Bad … bad, bad, bad memories.

"That's the least of our problems," Annie said. "Have you been having the dreams?"

"The dreams ... about Grover?" Percy asked. I paled. I forgot to warn Annie.

Her face turned pale. That makes two of us. "Grover? No, what about Grover?"

* * *

I told her my dream. "Why? What were _you _dreaming about?"

Her eyes looked stormy, like her mind was racing a million miles an hour.

"Camp," she said at last. "Big trouble at camp."

"My mom was saying the same thing! But what _kind _of trouble?"

"I don't know exactly. Something's wrong. We have to get there right away. Monsters have been chasing me all the way from Virginia, trying to stop me. Have you had a lot of attacks?"

I shook my head. "None all year ... until today."

"None? But how ..."

"Let's think. Who had the monster?" Mari snapped. Annabeth's eyes drifted to Tyson.

"Oh."

"What do you mean, 'oh'?" I asked.

Tyson raised his hand like he was still in class. "Canadians in the gym called Percy something ... Son of the Sea God?"

Annabeth and I exchanged looks. Marisol examined her dagger.

"This one's _all_ you bro," she said dismissively. "It's _your_ friend."

I didn't know how I could explain, but I figured Tyson deserved the truth after almost getting killed.

"Big guy," I said, "you ever hear those old stories about the Greek gods? Like Zeus, Poseidon, Athena—"

"Yes," Tyson said.

"Well ... those gods are still alive. They kind of follow Western Civilization around, living in the strongest countries_, _so like now they're in the U.S. And sometimes they have kids with mortals. Kids called half-bloods."

"Yes," Tyson said, like he was still waiting for me to get to the point.

"Uh, well, Annabeth, my sister, and I are half-bloods," I said. "We're like ... heroes-in-training. And whenever monsters pick up our scent, they attack us. That's what those giants were in the gym. Monsters."

"Yes."

I stared at him. He didn't seem surprised or confused by what I was telling him, which surprised and confused me.

"So ... you believe me?"

Tyson nodded. "But you are ... Son of the Sea God?"

"Yeah," I admitted. "My dad …" I motioned to Mari, "our dad is Poseidon."

Tyson frowned. _Now_ he looked confused. "But then …"

Mari nodded, smirking. "So if you cross me I'll turn you to dust." Annabeth looked panicked.

"Mari you don't know what it'll―"

"Relax," she said easily. "It likes Percy and even _its _smart enough not to hurt his "best friend's" sister." A siren wailed. A police car raced past our alley.

"We don't have time for this," Annabeth said. "We'll talk in the taxi."

"A taxi all the way to camp?" I said. "You know how much money—"

Marisol put her hand up, motioning me to stop. When did she get so snippy? "Trust her."

I hesitated. "What about Tyson?"

I imagined escorting my giant friend into Camp Half-Blood. If he freaked out on a regular playground with regular bullies, how would he act at a training camp for demigods? On the other hand, the cops would be looking for us.

"We can't just leave him," I decided. "He'll be in trouble, too."

"Yeah." Annabeth looked grim. "We definitely need to take him. Now come on."

I didn't like the way she said that, as if Tyson were a big disease we needed to get to the hospital, but I followed her and my sister down the alley. Together the four of us sneaked through the side streets of downtown while a huge column of smoke billowed up behind us from my school gymnasium.

"Here." Annabeth stopped us on the corner of Thomas and Trimble. She fished around in her backpack. "I hope I have one left."

"I think I have some," Mari mumbled as she fidgeted within her pockets. She growled in annoyance, hitting her leg. "Empty."

They looked even worse than I'd realized at first.

Annabeth's chin was cut. Twigs and grass were tangled in her ponytail, as if she'd slept several nights in the open. The slashes on the hems of her jeans looked suspiciously like claw marks.

Mari had small red slashed on her cheeks and throat. Her skirt was shredded so much that if I'd had a sweater I'd have wrapped it around her waist. Her hair was in tangled, glittering with sulfuric monster dust.

*Like you look any better,* she snipped.

"What are you looking for?" I asked them.

All around us, sirens wailed. I figured it wouldn't be long before more cops cruised by, looking for juvenile delinquent gym-bombers. No doubt Matt Sloan had given them a statement by now. He'd probably twisted the story around so that Tyson and I were the bloodthirsty cannibals.

"Found one. Thank the gods." Annabeth pulled out a gold coin that I recognized as a drachma, the currency of Mount Olympus. It had Zeus's likeness stamped on one side and the Empire State Building on the other.

"Annabeth," I said, "New York taxi drivers won't take that."

"_Stêthi_," she shouted in Ancient Greek. _"Ô hárma diabolês!"_

As usual, the moment she spoke in the language of Olympus, I somehow understood it. She'd said: _Stop, Chariot of Damnation!_

That didn't exactly make me feel real excited about whatever her plan was.

She threw her coin into the street, but instead of clattering on the asphalt, the drachma sank right through and disappeared.

For a moment, nothing happened.

* * *

Then, just where the coin had fallen, the asphalt darkened. It melted into a rectangular pool about the size of a parking space—bubbling red liquid like blood. Then a car erupted from the ooze.

It was a taxi, all right, but unlike every other taxi in New York, it wasn't yellow. It was smoky gray. I mean it looked like it was _woven _out of smoke, like you could walk right through it. There were words printed on the door—some thing like GYAR SSIRES—but my dyslexia made it hard for me to decipher what it said. Sadly, I knew what it was. I really wished I didn't. Remembering one of my first adventures, I flinched. Stupid cab almost turned _me_ into demigod dust!

* * *

The passenger window rolled down, and an old woman stuck her head out. She had a mop of grizzled hair covering her eyes, and she spoke in a weird mumbling way, like she'd just had a shot of Novocain.

"Passage? Passage?"

"Four to Camp Half-Blood," Annabeth said. She opened the cab's back door and waved at me to get in, like this was all completely normal.

"Ach!" the old woman screeched. "We don't take _his _kind!" She pointed a bony finger at Tyson.

What was it? Pick-on-Big-and-Ugly-Kids Day?

"Extra pay," Annabeth promised. "Four more drachma on arrival."

"Done!" the woman screamed. Mari crawled in, curling herself up at the other door. Reluctantly I got in the cab. Tyson squeezed in the middle. Annabeth crawled in last.

The interior was also smoky gray, but it felt solid enough. The seat was cracked and lumpy—no different than most taxis. There was no Plexiglas screen separating us from the old lady driving ... Wait a minute. There wasn't just one old lady. There were three, all crammed in the front seat, each with stringy hair covering her eyes, bony hands, and a charcoal-colored sackcloth dress.

The one driving said, "Long Island! Out-of-metro fare bonus! Ha!"

She floored the accelerator, and my head slammed against the backrest. A prerecorded voice came on over the speaker: _Hi, this is Ganymede, cup-bearer to Zeus, and when I'm out buying wine for the Lord of the Skies, I always buckle up!_

I looked down and found a large black chain instead of a seat belt. I decided I wasn't that desperate ... yet.

"Pfft, Ganymede isn't the cup-bearer in _that_ sense. He serves the ambrosia," Mari scoffed. I looked at her.

* * *

"What's up with you?" Percy asked me. I looked at him. His green eyes bore into mine. I could tell he was trying to get in my head, mentally pounding on the metal door that kept him out.

"Nothing," I muttered, breaking eye-contact. Being unsatisfied, he _made_ me look at him. Like, he actually took control of my senses and such, making me reconnect our eye contact.

"It's not nothing if it makes you look away," he said as he released his hold on my senses.

"I'm not of fan of his kind alright?" I huffed. He looked angry. _Of course_, leave it to him to care about monsters. Our mother made him really fluffy in her time raising him. I'll needa speak with her about that later.

"And what do you _mean_ by that?" he snapped. I rolled my eyes.

"Bro, only _you_ wouldn't notice when you make friends with a monster," I sighed. He glared at me. The kind-hearted Perseus Jackson glared at his little sister, ladies and gentlemen.

"Explain."

"I had a run in with his … brother while on the run. Almost got killed. Hence the not being fond of his kind. Especially when it comes to _you_," I said, remembering the unpleasant run in. I shivered. If it really had been Percy … but it wasn't. It was one of our stupid mo-bros.

* * *

The cab sped around the corner of West Broadway as I mulled over what Mari said, and the gray lady sitting in the middle screeched, "Look out! Go left!"

"Well, _if _you'd give me the eye, Tempest, I could _see _that!" the driver complained.

Wait a minute. _Give her the eye?_

I didn't have time to ask questions because the driver swerved to avoid an oncoming _delivery _truck, ran over the curb with a jaw-rattling _thump, _and flew into the next block.

"Wasp!" the third lady said to the driver. "Give me the girl's coin! I want to bite it."

"You bit it last time, Anger!" said the driver, whose name must've been Wasp. "It's my turn!"

"Is not!" yelled the one called Anger.

The middle one, Tempest, screamed, "Red light!"

"Brake!" yelled Anger.

Instead, Wasp floored the accelerator and rode up on the curb, screeching around another corner, and knocking over a newspaper box. She left my stomach somewhere back on Broome Street.

"Excuse me," I said. "But ... can you see?"

"No!" screamed Wasp from behind the wheel.

"No!" screamed Tempest from the middle.

"Of course!" screamed Anger by the shotgun window.

I looked at Annabeth. "They're blind?"

"Not completely," Annabeth said.

"They have an eye," Mari muttered, looking through the window.

"One eye?"

"Yeah." Annabeth nodded.

"Each?"

"Nope," Mari popped the 'p'. "One eye, three sisters."

Next to me, Tyson groaned and grabbed the seat. "Not feeling so good."

"Oh, man," I said, because I'd seen Tyson get carsick on school field trips and it was _not _something you wanted to be within fifty feet of. "Hang in there, big guy. Anybody got a garbage bag or something?"

The three gray ladies were too busy squabbling to pay me any attention. I looked over at Annabeth, who was hanging on for dear life, and I gave her a _why-did-you-do-this-to-me _look.

"Hey," she said, "Gray Sisters Taxi is the fastest way to camp."

"Then why didn't you take it from Virginia?"

"That's outside their service area," she said, like that should be obvious. "They only serve Greater New York and surrounding communities."

"We've had famous people in this cab!" Anger exclaimed. "Jason! You remember him?"

"Don't remind me!" Wasp wailed. "And we didn't have a cab back then, you old bat. That was three thousand years ago!"

"Give me the tooth!" Anger tried to grab at Wasp's mouth, but Wasp swatted her hand away.

"Only if Tempest gives me the eye!"

"No!" Tempest screeched. "You had it yesterday!"

"But I'm driving, you old hag!"

"Excuses! Turn! That was your turn!"

Wasp swerved hard onto Delancey Street, squishing me between Tyson and the door. She punched the gas and we shot up the Williamsburg Bridge at seventy miles an hour.

The three sisters were fighting for real now, slapping each other as Anger tried to grab at Wasp's face and Wasp tried to grab at Tempest's. With their hair flying and their mouths open, screaming at each other, I realized that none of the sisters had any teeth except for Wasp, who had one mossy yellow incisor. Instead of eyes, they just had closed, sunken eyelids, except for Anger, who had one bloodshot green eye that stared at everything hungrily, as if it couldn't get enough of anything it saw.

"I think I'm gonna be sick," Mari muttered as she rested her head on my shoulder and covered her eyes. "They're maddening!"

Finally Anger, who had the advantage of sight, managed to yank the tooth out of her sister Wasp's mouth. This made Wasp so mad she swerved toward the edge of the Williamsburg Bridge, yelling, "'Ivit back! 'Ivit back!"

Tyson groaned and clutched his stomach.

"Uh, if anybody's interested," I said, "We're going to die!"

"Don't worry," Annabeth told me, sounding pretty worried. "The Gray Sisters know what they're doing. They're really very wise."

This was coming from the daughter of Athena, but I wasn't exactly reassured. We were skimming along the edge of a bridge a hundred and thirty feet above the East River.

"Yes, wise!" Anger grinned in the rearview mirror, showing off her newly acquired tooth. "We know things!"

"Every street in Manhattan!" Wasp bragged, still hitting her sister. "The capital of Nepal!"

"The location you seek!" Tempest added. Mari shot up like she'd been electrocuted. We Poseidon kids didn't do well with electrocution so you can tell she was pretty stunned there.

Immediately her sisters pummeled her from either side, screaming, "Be quiet! Be quiet! He didn't even ask yet!"

"What?" I said. "What location? I'm not seeking any—"

"Nothing!" Tempest said. "You're right, boy. It's nothing!"

"Tell me."

"No!" they all screamed.

"The last time we told, it was horrible!" Tempest said.

"Eye tossed in a lake!" Anger agreed.

"Years to find it again!" Wasp moaned. "And speaking of that—give it back!"

"No!" yelled Anger.

"Eye!" Wasp yelled. "Gimme!"

She whacked her sister Anger on the back. There was a sickening _pop _and something flew out of Anger's face. Anger fumbled for it, trying to catch it, but she only managed to bat it with the back of her hand. The slimy green orb sailed over her shoulder, into the backseat, and straight into my lap.

I jumped so hard, my head hit the ceiling and the eyeball rolled away.

"Ow," Mari groaned, rubbing her head and jaw. "You just _shouldered_ my _face_!"

"I can't see!" all three sisters yelled.

"Give me the eye!" Wasp wailed.

"Give her the eye!" Annabeth screamed.

"I don't have it!" I said.

"There, by your foot," Annabeth said. "Don't step on it! Get it!"

"I'm not picking that up!"

The taxi slammed against the guardrail and skidded along with a horrible grinding noise. The whole car shuddered, billowing gray smoke as if it were about to dissolve from the strain.

"Going to be sick!" Tyson warned.

"Annabeth," I yelled, "let Tyson use your backpack!"

"Are you crazy? Get the eye!"

Wasp yanked the wheel, and the taxi swerved away from the rail. We hurtled down the bridge toward Brooklyn, going faster than any human taxi. The Gray Sisters screeched and pummeled each other and cried out for their eye.

"I'm so getting you for this!" my sister shrieked at me, quickly reaching down with a shaking hand and picking up the eyeball. She tossed it into my lap, rubbing/whacking my arm with her hand as she cried "ew, ew, _ew!_"

"Nice boy!" Anger cried, as if she somehow knew I had her missing peeper. "Give it back!"

"Not until you explain," I told her. "What were you talking about, the location I seek?"

"No time!" Tempest cried. "Accelerating!"

I looked out the window. Sure enough, trees and cars and whole neighborhoods were now zipping by in a gray blur. We were already out of Brooklyn, heading through the middle of Long Island.

"Percy," Annabeth warned, "they can't find our destination without the eye. We'll just keep accelerating until we break into a million pieces."

"First they have to tell me," I said. "Or I'll open the window and throw the eye into oncoming traffic."

"No!" the Gray Sisters wailed. "Too dangerous!"

"It'd be worth it," my sister cried. "The information they have is always needed!"

"Give us the eye!" the sisters wailed.

"I'm rolling down the window."

"Wait!" the Gray Sisters screamed. "30, 31, 75, 12!" They belted it out like a quarterback calling a play.

"What do you mean?" I said. "That makes no sense!"

"30, 31, 75, 12!" Anger wailed. "That's all we can tell you. Now give us the eye! Almost to camp!"

We were off the highway now, zipping through the countryside of northern Long Island. I could see Half-Blood Hill ahead of us, with its giant pine tree at the crest—Thalia's tree, which contained the life force or a fallen hero.

"Percy!" Annabeth said more urgently. "Give them the eye now!"

I decided not to argue. I threw the eye into Wasp's lap.

The old lady snatched it up, pushed it into her eye socket like somebody putting in a contact lens, and blinked. "Whoa!"

She slammed on the brakes. The taxi spun four or five times in a cloud of smoke and squealed to a halt in the middle of the farm road at the base of Half-Blood Hill.

Tyson let loose a huge belch. "Better now."

* * *

My stomach twisted as I was thrown forward and into the back of the front seat. Sliding to the floor of the cab, I felt something hot and acidic rolling up my throat. Swallowing it back down, I glared at my brother and rubbed my head.

"You just wait Jackson," I growled. "When I get my hands on you later you are _so_ gonna get it."

* * *

"All right," I told the Gray Sisters (ignoring my own sister). "Now tell me what those numbers mean."

"No time!" Annabeth opened her door. "We have to get out _now."_

I was about to ask why, when I looked up at Half-Blood Hill and understood.

At the crest of the hill was a group of campers. And they were under attack.

* * *

**So I'm back. Not sure if that's a good thing. I was kinda mad today so I kinda bitched out via Marisol. Sorry... Review?**

**I'm kinda in need of a boost so yeah the reviewing would be nice.**

**Till next time.**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**


	5. Tyson Plays With Fire

**Percy&Marisol Jackson & The Olympians: SoM**

**Chapter Four**

**Tyson Plays with Fire**

* * *

Mythologically speaking, if there's anything I hate worse than trios of old ladies, its bulls. Last summer, I fought the Minotaur on top of Half-Blood Hill. This time what I saw up there was even worse: two bulls. And not just regular bulls—bronze ones the size of elephants. And even _that _wasn't bad enough. Naturally they had to breathe fire, too.

As soon as we exited the taxi, the Gray Sisters peeled out, heading back to New York, where life was safer. They didn't even wait for their extra four-drachma payment. They just left us on the side of the road, Annabeth with nothing but her backpack and knife, my sister in her torn up school clothes with her dagger at her waist, Tyson and me still in our burned-up tie-dyed gym clothes.

"Oh, man," said Annabeth, looking at the battle raging on the hill.

What worried me most weren't the bulls themselves. Or the ten heroes in full battle armor who were getting their bronze-plated booties whooped. What worried me was that the bulls were ranging all over the hill, even around the back side of the pine tree.

That shouldn't have been possible. The camp's magic boundaries didn't allow monsters to cross past Thalia's tree. But the metal bulls were doing it anyway.

* * *

My breath caught in my throat as I noticed the bulls running rampant _behind_ Thalia's tree, behind the camp's boarder lines. Only demigods, and approved monsters, were allowed inside the camp. If the Colchis Bulls could get past the boarder, unauthourized, we were in trouble. Why? Thalia's magic, the last thing she had to offer in her state of tree, was failing.

One of the heroes shouted, "Border patrol, to me!" A girl's voice—gruff and familiar.

* * *

Border patrol? I thought. The camp didn't _have _a border patrol.

"It's Clarisse," Annabeth said. "Come on, we have to help her."

Normally, rushing to Clarisse's aid would not have been high on my "to do" list. She was one of the biggest bullies at camp. The first time we'd met she tried to introduce my head to a toilet. She was also a daughter of Ares, and I'd had a very serious disagreement with her father last summer, so now the god of war and all his children basically hated my guts.

*She's family, and she is kinda gettin' her butt kicked to Kansas,* Mari mumbled, pulling her dagger free of its sheath.

True, she _was _in trouble. Her fellow warriors were scattering, running in panic as the bulls charged. The grass was burning in huge swathes around the pine tree. One hero screamed and waved his arms as he ran in circles, the horse hair plume on his helmet blazing like a fiery Mohawk.

* * *

I swear, some heroes just don't know how to fight. The moron should _take off _the flaming helmet!

Clarisse's own armor was charred. She was fighting with a broken spear shaft, the other end embedded uselessly in the metal joint of one bull's shoulder. I stuffed my hand in what was left in my pocket, cursing when I learned there wasn't one at all. So my sword must be lost somewhere, and to get it back I'd need to wear some form of shorts or pants with pockets. I had no time for that, so I was stuck with my dagger.

* * *

I uncapped my ballpoint pen. It shimmered, growing longer and heavier until I held the bronze sword Anaklusmos in my hands. "Tyson, stay here. I don't want you taking any more chances."

"No!" Annabeth said. "We need him."

I stared at her. "He's mortal. He got lucky with the dodge balls but he can't—"

"Percy, do you know what those are up there? The Colchis bulls, made by Hephaestus himself. We can't fight them without Medea's Sunscreen SPF 50,000. We'll get burned to a crisp."

"Medea's _what?"_

"Crumbs!" Mari cried, looking angry. "I have my sea breeze scent sitting in my drawer in my cabin."

Annabeth rummaged through her backpack and cursed. "I had a jar of tropical coconut scent sitting on my night-stand at home. Why didn't I bring it?"

I'd learned a long time ago not to question Annabeth too much. It just made me more confused. "Look, I don't know what you're talking about, but I'm _not _going to let Tyson get fried."

"Percy—"

"Tyson, stay back." I raised my sword. "I'm going in."

Tyson tried to protest, but I was already running up the hill toward Clarisse, who was yelling at her patrol, trying to get them into phalanx formation. It was a good idea. The few who were listening lined up shoulder-to-shoulder, locking their shields to form an ox-hide—and-bronze wall, their spears bristling over the top like porcupine quills.

Unfortunately, Clarisse could only muster six campers. The other four were still running around with their helmets on fire.

Annabeth ran toward them, trying to help. She taunted one of the bulls into chasing her, then turned invisible, completely confusing the monster. Marisol caught it's attention and made some sort of gesture. Annabeth reappeared and she aided my sister in a game of _Confuse the Bull. _The other bull charged Clarisse's line.

I was halfway up the hill—not close enough to help. Clarisse hadn't even seen me yet.

The bull moved deadly fast for something so big. Its metal hide gleamed in the sun. It had fist-sized rubies for eyes, and horns of polished silver. When it opened its hinged mouth, a column of white-hot flame blasted out.

"Hold the line!" Clarisse ordered her warriors.

Whatever else you could say about Clarisse, she was brave.

She was a big girl with cruel eyes like her father's. She looked like she was born to wear Greek battle armor, but I didn't see how even she could stand against that bull's charge.

Unfortunately, at that moment, the other bull lost interest in killing its smarter enemies. It turned, wheeling around behind Clarisse on her unprotected side.

"Behind you!" I yelled. "Look out!"

I shouldn't have said anything, because all I did was startle her. Bull Number One crashed into her shield, and the phalanx broke. Clarisse went flying backward and landed in a smoldering patch of grass. The bull charged past her, but not before blasting the other heroes with its fiery breath. Their shields melted right off their arms. They dropped their weapons and ran as Bull Number Two closed in on Clarisse for the kill.

I lunged forward and grabbed Clarisse by the straps of her armor. I dragged her out of the way just as Bull Number Two freight-trained past. I gave it a good swipe with Riptide and cut a huge gash in its flank, but the monster just creaked and groaned and kept on going.

It hadn't touched me, but I could feel the heat of its metal skin. Its body temperature could've microwaved a frozen burrito.

"Let me go!" Clarisse pummeled my hand. "Percy, curse you!"

I dropped her in a heap next to the pine tree and turned to face the bulls. We were on the inside slope of the hill now, the valley of Camp Half-Blood directly below us—the cabins, the training facilities, the Big House—all of it at risk if these bulls got past us.

Annabeth shouted orders to the other heroes, telling them to spread out and keep the bulls distracted.

Bull Number One ran a wide arc, making its way back toward me. As it passed the middle of the hill, where the invisible boundary line should've kept it out, it slowed down a little, as if it were struggling against a strong wind; but then it broke through and kept coming. Bull Number Two turned to face me, fire sputtering from the gash I'd cut in its side. I couldn't tell if it felt any pain, but its ruby eyes seemed to glare at me like I'd just made things personal.

* * *

I panicked, hopping slightly from foot to foot as I thought. Percy was going to get double teramed. Campers needed help. Percy was going to get mushed into a puddle of Poseidon kid. Campers could get even more hurt.

I swore loudly before looking at Annabeth.

"Go help the other campers. Keep the monster away from them. I'll go help my mess of a brother," I called, turning and running to the boarder of the camp. Running through, I began following the bull that had just broken through.

* * *

I couldn't fight both bulls at the same time. I'd have to take down Bull Number Two first, cut its head off before Bull Number One charged back into range. My arms already felt tired. I realized how long it had been since I'd worked out with Riptide, how out of practice I was.

* * *

I ran toward my brother, somehow passing the bull I'd been following. I took a wild shot, pulling my arm back before it snapped forward and let my dagger fly. It caught the bull's inner front leg, making it tumble to the ground before it got up and resumed running like it'd barely been touched. Cue swear words. I needed a new plan of action.

I didn't get that chance, when spikes of pain shot through my leg and sent me rolling to the grass.

* * *

I lunged but Bull Number Two blew flames at me. I rolled aside as the air turned to pure heat. All the oxygen was sucked out of my lungs. My foot caught on something—a tree root, maybe—and pain shot up my ankle. Still, I managed to slash with my sword and lop off part of the monster's snout. It galloped away, wild and disoriented. But before I could feel too good about that, I tried to stand, and my left leg buckled underneath me. My ankle was sprained, maybe broken.

Bull Number One charged straight toward me. No way could I crawl out of its path.

Annabeth shouted: "Tyson, help him!"

Somewhere near, toward the crest of the hill, Tyson wailed, "Can't—get—through!"

"I, Annabeth Chase, give you permission to enter camp!"

Thunder shook the hillside. Suddenly Tyson was there, barreling toward me, yelling:

"Percy needs help!"

Before I could tell him no, he dove between me and the bull just as it unleashed a nuclear firestorm.

"Tyson!" I yelled.

The blast swirled around him like a red tornado. I could only see the black silhouette of his body. I decided to worry about the monster just this once, because it was saving my brother. Something I should have been doing, if I were fireproof. Getting up and ignoring my brother's pain, I began sprinting toward the pair.

* * *

I knew with horrible certainty that my friend had just been turned into a column of ashes.

But when the fire died, Tyson was still standing there, completely unharmed. Not even his grungy clothes were scorched. The bull must've been as surprised as I was, because before it could unleash a second blast, Tyson balled his fists and slammed them into the bull's face. "BAD COW!"

His fists made a crater where the bronze bull's snout used to be. Two small columns of flame shot out of its ears. Tyson hit it again, and the bronze crumpled under his hands like aluminum foil. The bull's face now looked like a sock puppet pulled inside out.

"Down!" Tyson yelled. The bull staggered and fell on its back. Its legs moved feebly in the air, steam coming out of its ruined head in odd places.

Annabeth ran over to check on me. My sister bolted over and hit me upside the head. Not very helpful.

My ankle felt like it was filled with acid, but she gave me some Olympian nectar to drink from her canteen, and I immediately started to feel better. There was a burning smell that I later learned was me. The hair on my arms had been completely singed off.

* * *

I felt uncomfortably warm, and somewhat tired after the game of ring around the bullsy, but I brushed it off with a whack to my brother's head. I'd be nice later, right now I needed to … thank a monster. This never would have happened if Percy wasn't such a … good person. Alright, alright, fine, I'll go be nice.

"Tyson," I called as I warily approached. He looked at me, wide-eyed and nervous.

"Yes?" he asked childishly. I forced out a thin-lipped smile, patting him arm awkwardly.

"Thank you for saving my goofy brother countlessly," I said through clenched teeth. "I … owe you some." He grinned at me and I flinched, not used to that much grossness in one shot. "I'll just … uh … check on Percy."

Instead of doing that, I moved off to the other broken bull.

* * *

"The other bull?" I asked.

Annabeth pointed down the hill. Clarisse had taken care of Bad Cow Number Two.

She'd impaled it through the back leg with a celestial bronze spear. Now, with its snout half gone and a huge gash in its side, it was trying to run in slow motion, going in circles like some kind of merry-go-round animal.

Clarisse pulled off her helmet and marched toward us. A strand of her stringy brown hair was smoldering, but she didn't seem to notice. "You—ruin—everything!" she yelled at me. "I had it under control!"

I was too stunned to answer. Annabeth grumbled, "Good to see you too, Clarisse."

"Argh!" Clarisse screamed. "Don't ever, EVER try saving me again!"

"Clarisse," Annabeth said, "you've got wounded campers."

That sobered her up. Even Clarisse cared about the soldiers under her command.

"I'll be back," she growled, then trudged off to assess the damage.

* * *

I marched up to the stupid bull, watching as it tried to reach me. "You," I growled as I kicked it over, and sent myself falling backwards, "suck." I crawled over to the squealing bull and kicked it a few more times before struggling to retrieve my dagger from its front leg. It growled and tried to shoot fire at me, but it was starting to lose power and it didn't feel like fire. It felt like a warm cup of milk now, so I took my dagger and stuck it in its metal throat.

"Stupid bull," I mumbled, kicking it's still form one more time before rejoining my brother.

* * *

I stared at Tyson. "You didn't die."

Tyson looked down like he was embarrassed. "I am sorry. Came to help. Disobeyed you."

"My fault," Annabeth said. "I had no choice. I had to let Tyson cross the boundary line to save you. Otherwise, you would've died."

_"Let _him cross the boundary line?'" I asked. "But—"

"Percy," she said, "have you ever looked at Tyson closely? I mean ... in the face. Ignore the Mist, and _really _look at him."

The Mist makes humans see only what their brains can process ... I knew it could fool demigods too, but...

I looked Tyson in the face. It wasn't easy. I'd always had trouble looking directly at him, though I'd never quite understood why. I'd thought it was just because he always had peanut butter in his crooked teeth.

I forced myself to focus at his big lumpy nose, then a little higher at his eyes.

No, not _eyes._

_One _eye. One large, calf-brown eye, right in the middle of his forehead, with thick lashes and big tears trickling down his cheeks on either side.

"Tyson," I stammered. "You're a ..."

"Cyclops," Annabeth offered. "A baby, by the looks of him. Probably why he couldn't get past the boundary line as easily as the bulls. Tyson's one of the homeless orphans."

"One of the what?"

"They're in almost all the big cities," Annabeth said distastefully. Mari chose the perfect time to come on back and continue for Annabeth.

"They're ... _mistakes, _Percy. Children of nature spirits and gods ..." she looked uneasy now, Annabeth picking up some kind of best friends link and continuing where Mari stopped short.

"Well, one god in particular, usually ... and they don't always come out right. No one wants them. They get tossed aside. They grow up wild on the streets. I don't know how this one found you, but he obviously likes you."

Mari looked around, her face troubled. "We should take him to Chiron, let him decide what to do."

* * *

I could remember it all clearly. It all started when I was a simple runaway, but it ended with the death of one of my best friends. I could remember how at ease I'd been for a seven year old. How ready I was to go do something recklessly deadly, just because I was sick and tired of having to sit back and let people I cared about die. Maybe if I could just get rid of some monsters, I'd been saving some lives. Monsters didn't reform too quickly if you were lucky. So far, I'd been very lucky.

I shook my head, trying to stop the memories. I decided to zone back in to hear whatever Percy was going on about.

* * *

"But the fire. How—"

"He's a Cyclops." Annabeth paused, as if she were remembering something unpleasant. "They work the forges of the gods. They _have _to be immune to fire. That's what I was trying to tell you."

I was completely shocked. How had I never realized what Tyson was?

But I didn't have much time to think about it just then. The whole side of the hill was burning. Wounded heroes needed attention. And there were still two banged-up bronze bulls to dispose of, which I didn't figure would fit in our normal recycling bins.

Clarisse came back over and wiped the soot off her forehead. "Jackson, if you can stand, get up. We need to carry the wounded back to the Big House, let Tantalus know what's happened."

"Tantalus?" I asked.

"The activities director," Clarisse said impatiently.

"Chiron is the activities director. And where's Argus? He's head of security. He should be here."

Clarisse made a sour face. "Argus got fired. You three have been gone too long. Things are changing."

"But Chiron ... He's trained kids to fight monsters for over three thousand years. He can't just be _gone. _What happened?"

"_That _happened," Clarisse snapped.

She pointed to Thalia's tree.

Every camper knew the story behind the tree. Six years ago, Grover, Marisol, Annabeth, and two other demigods named Thalia and Luke had come to Camp Half-Blood chased by an army of monsters. When they got cornered on top of this hill, Thalia, a daughter of Zeus, had made her last stand here to give her friends time to reach safety. As she was dying, her father, Zeus, took pity on her and changed her into a pine tree. Her spirit had reinforced the magic borders of the camp, protecting it from monsters. The pine had been here ever since, strong and healthy.

* * *

I looked at the tree, my eyes burning with tears as I saw what was left of my best friend, one of the only people who understood my troubles, decay. Now, the needles of her tree were yellow. A huge pile of dead ones littered the base of the tree. In the center of the trunk, three feet from the ground, was a puncture mark the size of a bullet hole, oozing green sap.

* * *

A sliver of ice ran through my chest. Now I understood why the camp was in danger. The magical borders were failing because Thalia's tree was dying.

Someone had poisoned it.

* * *

**So this chapter sucks but it's harder to bring her into the parts of the story that are like this. I can't change things too early in the book because then I wont be able to follow up with the plot line too well so we'll need to wait a few chapters until I can _really_ start letting Marisol do her own things. She'll lose the bitchy attitude once she settles back into her familiar camp setting … as foreign as its become.**

**Review? Please?**

**Till next time. X.**

**~Poseidon'sDaughter-Percy'sSis**


	6. I Get A New Cabin Mate

**Okay hi, I'm back with an update like i swore! I just hope you don't kill me because as always I think it's bad but oh well. Everyone can have different opinions. Review? Pretty Please?**

* * *

**I get a new Cabin Mate**

Ever come home and found your room messed up? Like some helpful person (hi, Mom) has tried to "clean" it, and suddenly you can't find anything? And even if nothing is missing, you get that creepy feeling like somebody's been looking through your private stuff and dusting everything with lemon furniture polish?

That's kind of the way I felt seeing Camp Half-Blood again.

On the surface, things didn't look all that different.

The Big House was still there with its blue gabled roof and its wraparound porch. The strawberry fields still baked in the sun. The same white-columned Greek buildings were scattered around the valley—the amphitheater, the combat arena, the dining pavilion overlooking Long Island Sound. And nestled between the woods and the creek were the same cabins—a crazy assortment of twelve buildings, each representing a different Olympian god.

* * *

But there was an air of danger now. You could tell something was wrong.

Instead of playing volleyball in the sandpit, counselors and satyrs were stockpiling weapons in the tool shed. Dryads armed with bows and arrows talked nervously at the edge of the woods. The forest looked sickly, the grass in the meadow was pale yellow, and the fire marks on Half-Blood Hill stood out like ugly scars.

This was the place from my nightmares about Luke. He'd really done it. I felt sick to my stomach.

* * *

Somebody had messed with my favorite place in the world, and I was not ... well, a happy camper.

As we made our way to the Big House, I recognized a lot of kids from last summer. Nobody stopped to talk. Nobody said, "Welcome back." Some did double takes when they saw Tyson, but most just walked grimly past and carried on with their duties—running messages, toting swords to sharpen on the grinding wheels. The camp felt like a military school. And believe me, I know. I've been kicked out of a couple.

None of that mattered to Tyson. He was absolutely fascinated by everything he saw. "Whasthat!" he gasped.

"The stables for pegasi," I said. "The winged horses."

"Whasthat!"

"Um ... those are the toilets."

"Whasthat!"

* * *

"Oh my gods, shut up!" I shouted, startling Percy and the monster. It looked at me, suddenly wounded and ready to cry. Percy glared at me like suddenly _I _was the bad guy.

"Mari, what's―"

"I'm going to the Big House. Have fun giving a monster a demigod's tour," I growled, rushing off.

* * *

I swallowed hard, watching her rush off. Tyson sniffled, looking at her as well.  
"She no like me?" he asked. I shook my head quickly.

"No, no, it's not that. She just … she needs time to adjust to new people. She'll warm up to you big guy, I promise," I choked out finally. "So, uh, back to the tour."

"Whasthat?" he asked again.

"The cabins for the campers. If they don't know who your Olympian parent is, they put you in the Hermes cabin—that brown one over there—until you're determined. Then, once they know, they put you in your dad or mom's group."

He looked at me in awe. "You ... have a _cabin?"_

"Number three." I pointed to a low gray building made of sea stone.

"You live with friends in the cabin?"

"No. No, just me and my moody sister." I didn't feel like explaining. The embarrassing truth: We were the only ones who stayed in that cabin because we weren't supposed to be alive.

* * *

The "Big Three" gods—Zeus, Poseidon, and Hades—had made a pact after World War II not to have any more children with mortals. We were more powerful than regular half-bloods. We were too unpredictable. When we got mad we tended to cause problems ... like World War II, for instance. The "Big Three" pact had only been broken twice—once when Zeus sired Thalia, once when Poseidon sired me and Percy. None of us were supposed to been born.

* * *

Thalia had gotten herself turned into a pine tree when she was twelve. Mari had almost gotten killed when she ran away from camp when she was seven. Me ... well, I was doing my best not to follow either girl's example.

I had nightmares about what Poseidon might turn me into if I were ever on the verge of death— plankton, maybe. Or a floating patch of kelp.

* * *

I crashed into some random camper, swearing loudly as I tripped over a metal scrap on the ground and face planted.

"Oh gods, Mari are you okay?" a familiar male voice asked. My heart clenched, the voice was familiar to Luke's. I was dragged up by the arms only to come face to face with Connor Stoll.

"I'm fine," I grumbled, honestly fine in the physical sense.

"Sorry I knocked you down, I was actually just going to go check on you," Connor explained, taking my hands in his and brushing away the dirt. I sighed.

"It's whatever, nobodies dead," I mumbled, walking off toward the Big House. Connor fell into step beside me, arms swinging idly at our sides. I looked at him. "Not to be rude, but what did you want, exactly?" He seemed startled by the sound of my voice, his head snapping to the side to look my way.

"Oh. Right! Chiron sent me off to find you," he said quickly, grabbing my hand and dragging me off to the Big House. Let me tell you, running with a Hermes kid is _not_ easy.

* * *

When we got to the Big House, we found Chiron in his apartment, listening to his favorite 1960s lounge music while he packed his saddlebags. I guess I should mention—Chiron is a centaur. From the waist up he looks like a regular middle-aged guy with curly brown hair and a scraggly beard. From the waist down, he's a white stallion. He can pass for human by compacting his lower half into a magic wheelchair.

In fact, he'd passed himself off as my Latin teacher during my sixth-grade year. But most of the time, if the ceilings are high enough, he prefers hanging out in full centaur form.

As soon as we saw him, Tyson froze. "Pony!" he cried in total rapture.

Chiron turned, looking offended. "I beg your pardon?"

Annabeth ran up and hugged him. "Chiron, what's happening? You're not ... leaving?" Her voice was shaky. Chiron was like a second father to her.

Chiron ruffled her hair and gave her a kindly smile.

"Hello, child. And Percy, my goodness. You've grown over the year!"

I swallowed. "Clarisse said you were ... you were ..."

"Fired." Chiron's eyes glinted with dark humor. "Ah, well, someone had to take the blame. Lord Zeus was most upset. The tree he'd created from the spirit of his daughter, poisoned! Mr. D had to punish someone."

"Besides himself, you mean," I growled. Just the thought of the camp director, Mr. D, made me angry.

"But this is crazy!" Annabeth cried. "Chiron, you couldn't have had anything to do with poisoning Thalia's tree!"

"Nevertheless," Chiron sighed, "some on Olympus do not trust me now, under the circumstances."

"What circumstances?" I asked.

Chiron's face darkened. He stuffed a Latin-English dictionary into his saddlebag while the Frank Sinatra music oozed from his boom box.

Tyson was still staring at Chiron in amazement. He whimpered like he wanted to pat Chiron's flank but was afraid to come closer. "Pony?"

Chiron sniffed. "My dear young Cyclops! I am a _centaur._"

"Chiron," I said. "What about the tree? What happened?"

He shook his head sadly. "The poison used on Thalia's pine is something from the Underworld, Percy. Some venom even I have never seen. It must have come from a monster quite deep in the pits of Tartarus."

"Then we know who's responsible. Kro—"

"Do not invoke the titan lord's name, Percy. Especially not here, not now."

"But last summer he tried to cause a civil war in Olympus! This _has _to be his idea. He'd get Luke to do it, that traitor."

"Perhaps," Chiron said. "But I fear I am being held responsible because I did not prevent it and I cannot cure it. The tree has only a few weeks of life left unless ..."

"Unless what?" Annabeth asked.

"No," Chiron said. "A foolish thought. The whole valley is feeling the shock of the poison. The magical borders are deteriorating. The camp itself is dying. Only one source of magic would be strong enough to reverse the poison, and it was lost centuries ago."

"What _is _it?" I asked. "We'll go find it!"

Chiron closed his saddlebag. He pressed the stop button on his boom box. Then he turned and rested his hand on my shoulder, looking me straight in the eyes. "Percy, you must promise me that you will _not _act rashly. I told your mother I did not want you to come here at all this summer. It's much too dangerous. But now that you are here, _stay _here. Train hard. Learn to fight. But do not leave."

"Why?" I asked. "I want to do something! I can't just let the borders fail. The whole camp will be—"

"Overrun by monsters," Chiron said. "Yes, I fear so. But you must not let yourself be baited into hasty action! This could be a trap of the titan lord. Remember last summer! He almost took your life."

It was true, but still, I wanted to help so badly. I also wanted to make Kronos pay. I mean, you'd think the titan lord would've learned his lesson eons ago when he was over thrown by the gods. You'd think getting chopped into a million pieces and cast into the darkest part of the Underworld would give him a subtle clue that nobody wanted him around.

But no. Because he was immortal, he was still alive down there in Tartarus—suffering in eternal pain, hungering to return and take revenge on Olympus. He couldn't act on his own, but he was great at twisting the minds of mortals and even gods to do his dirty work.

The poisoning _had _to be his doing. Who else would be so low as to attack Thalia's tree, the only thing left of a hero who'd given her life to save her friends?

Annabeth was trying hard not to cry.

Chiron brushed a tear from her cheek. "Stay with Percy, child," he told her. "Keep him safe. The prophecy—remember it!"

"I—I will."

"Um ..." I said. "Would this be the super-dangerous prophecy that has me in it, but the gods have forbidden you to tell me about?"

Nobody answered.

"Right," I muttered. "Just checking."

"Chiron ..." Annabeth said. "You told me the gods made you immortal only so long as you were needed to train heroes. If they dismiss you from camp—"

"Swear you will do your best to keep Percy from danger," he insisted. "Swear upon the River Styx."

"I—I swear it upon the River Styx," Annabeth said.

Thunder rumbled outside.

"Very well," Chiron said. He seemed to relax just a little. "Perhaps my name will be cleared and I shall return. Until then, I go to visit my wild kinsmen in the Everglades. It's possible they know of some cure for the poisoned tree that I have forgotten. In any event, I will stay in exile until this matter is resolved ... one way or another."

Annabeth stifled a sob. Chiron patted her shoulder awkwardly. "There, now, child. I must entrust your safety to Mr. D and the new activities director. We must hope ... well, perhaps they won't destroy the camp quite as quickly as I fear."

"Who is this Tantalus guy, anyway?" I demanded. "Where does he get off taking your job?" A conch horn blew across the valley. I hadn't realized how late it was. It was time for the campers to assemble for dinner.

"Go," Chiron said. "You will meet him at the pavilion. I will contact your mother, Percy, and let her know you're safe. No doubt she'll be worried by now. Just remember my warning! You are in grave danger. Do not think for a moment that the titan lord has forgotten you!"

With that, he clopped out of the apartment and down the hall, Tyson calling after him, "Pony! Don't go!"

I realized I'd forgotten to tell Chiron about my dream of Grover. Now it was too late. The best teacher I'd ever had was gone, maybe for good.

* * *

Connor led me in and I caught sight of Chiron moving down the hall.

"Chiron!" we shouted, somewhat startling the old centaur. Now it was my turn to drag Connor along as I moved to catch up to the man who'd raised me.

"Chiron," I panted. "What's happening? Why did you call me?" He looked at me sadly, taking hold of my shoulder and leading me to the infirmary. I gripped Connor's hand, not allowing him to leave us. If I ended up in tears, I wouldn't want to be alone.

I sat on the first cot I saw, then I stiffened. This was Elizabeth's cot. The cot that she died on. Nothing good ever came from sitting here.

"My child, you have heard that I've been fired," he started. I nodded slowly, not sure that that fact had sunk in yet.

"Why?" _Don't be stupid_, I snapped at myself_. You know why._

"My dear girl, someone had to take the blame for Thalia's poisoning. Who better than myself, to be pinned down as the culprit?" I shook my head angrily. This wasn't right.

"Tell me what I have to do to fix this and I'll do it. Tell me!" I demanded, standing so quickly I got a head rush. "Tell me how to make this end. Tell me what to do, who to kill, what to get, just tell me something!" Connor put a restraining hand on my shoulder, pushing me back down onto the cot.

"Marisol, you must stay here with Percy and train. You are not to, under any circumstance, leave this camp. You must plan, you must protect the camp from the inside, not go off headfirst into danger and get yourself killed."

I glared at Chiron. He knew I'd do anything to save the camp, campers, and him. So why wouldn't he tell me what to do?

"The fleece." I said suddenly, remember something from the story Elizabeth once told me. "That'll heal anything that's dying. If we get it and hang it on Thalia maybe the camp will―"

"No," Chiron said sharply. "I refuse to let you quest for the fleece, or tell anyone that could give the information to your brother Perseus. On the River Styx, swear to me that you won't." I looked at him. What? If I couldn't get that fleece, it was game over. The camp would be overrun by monsters. There would be no saving my family.

No saving Percy, or Annabeth. No saving the Stolls, or Grover.

_Grover_ …

"I swear to you on the River Styx that I shall not go on a quest to find the Golden Fleece," I said confidently. Thunder boomed and I inwardly smirked. Now, if in finding Grover I stumbled across the Golden Fleece, that wouldn't be breaking my promise. Thank you loopholes.

"Then I may leave camp in peace, knowing that you are safe," he sighed. I looked at him again, swallowing the lump that had suddenly popped up in my throat.

"I don't want you to leave … please don't go," I begged, standing and throwing my arms around him. "Don't go! We're heroes, we need you to train us! Chiron if you don't … what if you fade? What if you leave and you die because you aren't training us? Chiron please don't go, please, please, please!" I was sobbing like a baby now, clinging to the centaur for dear life. I felt Connor's arms encircle my waist as he pried me from Chiron.

"Mari, people here are injured and you're causing a scene," he whispered. I let him scoop me up and carry me out, mumbling soft nothings to try and sooth me. He was a good friend. A really good friend.

"Where are we going?" I mumbled, hiccupping as the tears began to subside.

* * *

Tyson started bawling almost as bad as Annabeth. I tried to tell them that things would be okay, but I didn't believe it.

The sun was setting behind the dining pavilion as the campers came up from their cabins. We stood in the shadow of a marble column and watched them file in. Annabeth was still pretty shaken up, but she promised she'd talk to us later. Then she went off to join her siblings from the Athena cabin—a dozen boys and girls with blond hair and gray eyes like hers. Annabeth wasn't the oldest, but she'd been at camp more summers than just about anybody. You could tell that by looking at her camp necklace—one bead for every summer, and Annabeth had six. No one questioned her right to lead the line.

Next came Clarisse, leading the Ares cabin. She had one arm in a sling and a nasty-looking gash on her cheek, but otherwise her encounter with the bronze bulls didn't seem to have fazed her. Someone had taped a piece of paper to her back that said, YOU MOO, GIRL!

But nobody in her cabin was bothering to tell her about it.

After the Ares kids came the Hephaestus cabin—six guys led by Charles Beckendorf, a big fifteen-year-old African American kid.

He had hands the size of catchers' mitts and a face that was hard and squinty from looking into a blacksmiths forge all day. He was nice enough once you got to know him, but no one ever called him Charlie or Chuck or Charles. Most just called him Beckendorf. Rumor was he could make anything. Give him a chunk of metal and he could create a razor-sharp sword or a robotic warrior or a singing birdbath for your grandmother's garden. Whatever you wanted.

The other cabins filed in: Demeter, Apollo, Aphrodite, Dionysus. Naiads came up from the canoe lake.

Dryads melted out of the trees. From the meadow came a dozen satyrs, who reminded me painfully of Grover.

I'd always had a soft spot for the satyrs. When they were at camp, they had to do all kinds of odd jobs for Mr. D, the director, but their most important work was out in the real world. They were the camp's seekers. They went undercover into schools all over the world, looking for potential half-bloods and escorting them back to camp. That's how I'd met Grover. He had been the first one to recognize I was a demigod.

After the satyrs filed in to dinner, the Hermes cabin brought up the rear.

They were always the biggest cabin. Last summer, it had been led by Luke, the guy who'd fought with Thalia and Annabeth on top of Half-Blood Hill. For a while, before Poseidon had claimed me, I'd lodged in the Hermes cabin. Luke had befriended me ... and then he'd tried to kill me.

Now the Hermes cabin was led by Travis and Connor Stoll.

They weren't twins, but they looked so much alike it didn't matter. I could never remember which one was older.

They were both tall and skinny, with mops of brown hair that hung in their eyes. They wore orange CAMP HALF-BLOOD T-shirts untucked over baggy shorts, and they had those elfish features all Hermes's kids had: upturned eyebrows, sarcastic smiles, a gleam in their eyes whenever they looked at you—like they were about to drop a firecracker down your shirt.

I'd always thought it was funny that the god of thieves would have kids with the last name "Stoll," but the only time I mentioned it to Travis and Connor, they both stared at me blankly like they didn't get the joke. I noticed one of the Stoll brothers was missing, and just as the thought popped into my mind, the missing Stoll was at my side. I was startled to see my sister curled up in a ball in his arms, tear stains on her face. My sister rarely cried. If she ever got emotional she got overjoyed or over annoyed. The last time I remember her crying was a little under a year ago.

"Whoa, are you okay?" I asked Mari, helping her stand as Connor (Connor?) set her down. She shook her head, wordlessly throwing her arms around me and pretty much squeezing the air out of my lungs.

"Holler if you need me," Connor murmured, patting her back then dashing off to join his siblings.

I walked my sister over to Tyson, letting her calm down before we made our entrance. She hated letting others see her cry.

*I'm gonna miss him,* she mumbled. *He's the closest thing I've ever had to a dad.*

*We'll fix this. Chiron will be back in no time, yeah?* she looked at me, obviously unconvinced.

*Let's just get through dinner. I'd like to drown myself in my blankets as soon as possible, thanks.* I sighed, giving her a small nod of agreement. Then I looked at her. When did she get a chance to change out of her ratty school uniform? *Connor took me back to eleven before we came here.*

As soon as the last campers had filed in, I led Tyson into the middle of the pavilion. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. "Who invited _that?_" somebody at the Apollo table murmured.

I glared in their direction, but I couldn't figure out who'd spoken.

* * *

I picked up a fork and chucked it at Adam's head. It bounced off his temple and he swore.

"Let's not make my day worse, yeah?" I snarled, grabbing a spoon next. He nodding, grumbling what were obviously swears at me. I'd let Will deal with his younger brother later. It was bad enough I'd just got caught crying by my brother, I didn't need to catch the headache he was bound to get out of this. I brushed the remaining tears from my cheeks, using my powers to make all signs of them disappear. I moved to stand beside Percy, shaking my head to clear away all thoughts of Chiron. Then my eyes landed on one person I never thought I'd see alive.

* * *

From the head table a familiar voice drawled, "Well, well, if it isn't Peter and Marissa Johnson. My millennium is complete."

I gritted my teeth. _"Percy _and_ Marisol Jackson _... sir."

Mr. D sipped his Diet Coke. "Yes. Well, as you young people say these days: _Whatever."_

He was wearing his usual leopard-pattern Hawaiian shirt, walking shorts, and tennis shoes with black socks. With his pudgy belly and his blotchy red face, he looked like a Las Vegas tourist who'd stayed up too late in the casinos. Behind him, a nervous-looking satyr was peeling the skins off grapes and handing them to Mr. D, one at a time.

Mr. D's real name is Dionysus. The god of wine. Zeus appointed him director of Camp Half-Blood to dry out for a hundred years—a punishment for chasing some off-limits wood nymph.

Next to him, where Chiron usually sat (or stood, in centaur form), was someone I'd never seen before—a pale, horribly thin man in a threadbare orange prisoner's jump suit. The number over his pocket read 0001.

He had blue shadows under his eyes, dirty fingernails, and badly cut gray hair, like his last haircut had been done with a weed whacker. He stared at me; his eyes made me nervous. He looked ... fractured. Angry and frustrated and hungry all at the same time.

* * *

I swallowed, not sure if I should be angry or horrified that they'd let Tantalus into this camp. They let the worst of the thieves, one of the worst kin-slaying, into a camp of teenagers. I glanced at the Apollo's to see Will and Blaze watching me nervously. Tantalus had control for now. If we fought back, bad things would happen. We couldn't kill a dead guy. Only the children of Hades could "kill" the dead. We didn't have any Hades kids here.

* * *

"These two," Dionysus told him, "you need to watch. Poseidon's brats, you know."

"Ah!" the prisoner said. "The twins." His tone made it obvious that he and Dionysus had already discussed us at length.

"I am Tantalus," the prisoner said, smiling coldly. "On special assignment here until, well, until my Lord Dionysus decides otherwise. And you, Perseus and Marisol Jackson, I _do _expect you to refrain from causing any more trouble."

"Trouble?" I demanded.

Dionysus snapped his fingers. A newspaper appeared on the table—the front page of today's _New York Post, _There was my yearbook picture from Meriwether Prep. It was hard for me to make out the headline, but I had a pretty good guess what it said.

Something like: _Thirteen-Year-Old Lunatic Torches Gymnasium._

Besides that, in a linked story, was a picture of Marisol, covered in blood with her tattered uniform and covered in monster dust. She had a crazed look to her.

*I'm going to kill whoever took that picture. Phones aren't even allowed at that damn school. Nosy twits need to learn to mind their own business,* she grumbled, eyeing the newspaper angrily.

"Yes, trouble," Tantalus said with satisfaction. "You caused plenty of it last summer, I understand."

I was too mad to speak. Like it was _my _fault the gods had almost gotten into a civil war?

A satyr inched forward nervously and set a plate of barbecue in front of Tantalus. The new activities director licked his lips. He looked at his empty goblet and said, "Root beer. Barq's special stock. 1967."

The glass filled itself with foamy soda. Tantalus stretched out his hand hesitantly, as if he were afraid the goblet was hot.

"Go on, then, old fellow," Dionysus said, a strange sparkle in his eyes. "Perhaps now it will work."

Tantalus grabbed for the glass, but it scooted away before he could touch it. A few drops of root beer spilled, and Tantalus tried to dab them up with his fingers, but the drops rolled away like quicksilver before he could touch them. He growled and turned toward the plate of barbecue. He picked up a fork and tried to stab a piece of brisket, but the plate skittered down the table and flew off the end, straight into the coals of the brazier.

"Blast!" Tantalus muttered.

"Ah, well," Dionysus said, his voice dripping with false sympathy. "Perhaps a few more days. Believe me, old chap, working at this camp will be torture enough. I'm sure your old curse will fade eventually."

"Eventually," muttered Tantalus, staring at Dionysus's Diet Coke. "Do you have any idea how dry one's throat gets after three thousand years?"

"You're that spirit from the Fields of Punishment," I said. "The one who stands in the lake with the fruit tree hanging over you, but you can't eat or drink."

Tantalus sneered at me. "A real scholar, aren't you, boy?"

"You must've done something really horrible when you were alive," I said, mildly impressed. "What was it?" Marisol looked at me, eyes wide with horror.

* * *

*Don't … you really don't want to do that,* I warned. Percy glanced at me. *Tantalus could do serious harm and we can't kill a dead guy, Percy. We can't take him down.*

*What did he do?* Percy asked, glaring at Tantalus.

*Percy, I really don't like talking about it. Him on the other hand … I get the feeling he's ready to share.*

* * *

Tantalus's eyes narrowed. Behind him, the satyrs were shaking their heads vigorously, trying to warn me.

"I'll be watching you, Percy Jackson," Tantalus said. "I don't want any problems at my camp."

"_Your _camp has problems already ... sir."

"Oh, go sit down, Johnson," Dionysus sighed. "I believe that table over there is yours—the one where no one else ever wants to sit." My face was burning, but I knew better than to talk back. Dionysus was an overgrown brat, but he was an immortal, super powerful, overgrown brat.

I said, "Come on, Tyson."

"Oh, no," Tantalus said. "The monster stays here. We must decide what to do with it."

_"Him," _I snapped. "His name is Tyson."

The new activities director raised an eyebrow.

"Tyson saved the camp," I insisted. "He pounded those bronze bulls. Otherwise they would've burned down this whole place."

"Yes," Tantalus sighed, "and _what _a pity that would've been."

Dionysus snickered.

"Leave us," Tantalus ordered, "while we decide this creature's fate."

Tyson looked at me with fear in his one big eye, but I knew I couldn't disobey a direct order from the camp directors. Not openly, anyway.

"I'll be right over here, big guy," I promised. "Don't worry. We'll find you a good place to sleep tonight."

Tyson nodded. "I believe you. You are my friend."

Which made me feel a whole lot guiltier.

"Let's go," Marisol murmured, taking my hand and leading me away. "They'll be harder on him if we protest, they just want to make us angrier, Percy. Trust me, Dad won't let anyone hurt him." I looked at her.

"Dad?" I asked, bewildered. "What does he have to do with this?"

"Percy, Dad owes him. He saved your life and you're his only demigod son. He's not going to let them do something horrible to Tyson. Let's just go."

I trudged over to the Poseidon table and slumped onto the bench. A wood nymph brought me a plate of Olympian olive-and-pepperoni pizza, but I wasn't hungry. I'd been almost killed twice today. I'd managed to end my school year with a complete disaster. Camp Half-Blood was in serious trouble and Chiron had told me not to do anything about it.

I didn't feel very thankful, but I took my dinner, as was customary, up to the bronze brazier and scraped part of it into the flames.

"Poseidon," I murmured, "accept my offering."

_And send me some help while you're at it, _I prayed silently. _Please._

The smoke from the burning pizza changed into something fragrant—the smell of a clean sea breeze with wild-flowers mixed in—but I had no idea if that meant my father was really listening.

I went back to my seat. I didn't think things could get much worse. But then Tantalus had one of the satyrs blow the conch horn to get our attention for announcements.

"Yes, well," Tantalus said, once the talking had died down. "Another fine meal! Or so I am told." As he spoke, he inched his hand toward his refilled dinner plate, as if maybe the food wouldn't notice what he was doing, but it did. It shot away down the table as soon as he got within six inches.

"And here on my first day of authority," he continued, "I'd like to say what a pleasant form of punishment it is to be here. Over the course of the summer, I hope to torture, er, interact with each and every one of you children. You all look good enough to eat."

Dionysus clapped politely, leading to some halfhearted applause from the satyrs. Tyson was still standing at the head table, looking uncomfortable, but every time he tried to scoot out of the limelight, Tantalus pulled him back.

"And now some changes!" Tantalus gave the campers a crooked smile. "We are reinstituting the chariot races!"

Murmuring broke out at all the tables—excitement, fear, disbelief.

"Now I know," Tantalus continued, raising his voice, "that these races were discontinued some years ago due to, ah, technical problems."

"Three deaths and twenty-six mutilations," someone at the Apollo table called.

"Yes, yes!" Tantalus said. "But I know that you will all join me in welcoming the return of this camp tradition. Golden laurels will go to the winning charioteers each month. Teams may register in the morning! The first race will be held in three days time. We will release you from most of your regular activities to prepare your chariots and choose your horses. Oh, and did I mention, the victorious team's cabin will have no chores for the month in which they win?"

An explosion of excited conversation—no KP for a whole month? No stable cleaning?

Was he serious?

Then the last person I expected to object did so.

"But, sir!" Clarisse said. She looked nervous, but she stood up to speak from the Ares table. Some of the campers snickered when they saw the YOU MOO, GIRL! sign on her back. "What about patrol duty? I mean, if we drop everything to ready our chariots—"

"Ah, the hero of the day," Tantalus exclaimed. "Brave Clarisse, who single-handedly bested the bronze bulls!"

Clarisse blinked, then blushed. "Um, I didn't—"

"And modest, too." Tantalus grinned. "Not to worry, my dear! This is a summer camp. We are here to enjoy ourselves, yes?"

"But the tree—"

"And now," Tantalus said, as several of Clarisse's cabin mates pulled her back into her seat, "before we proceed to the campfire and sing-along, one slight housekeeping issue. Percy Jackson and Annabeth Chase have seen fit, for some reason, to bring _this _here." Tantalus waved a hand toward Tyson.

Uneasy murmuring spread among the campers. A lot of sideways looks at me. I wanted to kill Tantalus.

"Now, of course," he said, "Cyclopes have a reputation for being bloodthirsty monsters with a very small brain capacity. Under normal circumstances, I would release this beast into the woods and have you hunt it down with torches and pointed sticks. But who knows? Perhaps this Cyclops is not as horrible as most of its brethren. Until it proves worthy of destruction, we need a place to keep it! I've thought about the stables, but that will make the horses nervous. Hermes's cabin, possibly?"

Silence at the Hermes table. Travis and Connor Stoll developed a sudden interest in the tablecloth. I couldn't blame them. The Hermes cabin was always full to bursting. There was no way they could take in a six-foot-three Cyclops.

"Come now," Tantalus chided. "The monster may be able to do some menial chores. Any suggestions as to where such a beast should be kenneled?"

Suddenly everybody gasped.

Tantalus scooted away from Tyson in surprise. All I could do was stare in disbelief at the brilliant green light that was about to change my life—a dazzling holographic image that had appeared above Tyson's head.

With a sickening twist in my stomach, I remembered what Annabeth had said about Cyclopes, _They're the children of nature spirits and gods ... Well, one god in particular, usually …_

Swirling over Tyson was a glowing green trident—the same symbol that had appeared above me the day Poseidon had claimed me as his son.

Then Mari's words popped into my head, _Dad won't let anyone hurt him._

There was a moment of awed silence.

Being claimed was a rare event. Some campers waited in vain for it their whole lives. When I'd been claimed by Poseidon last summer, everyone had reverently knelt.

But now, they followed Tantalus's lead, and Tantalus roared with laughter. "Well! I think we know where to put the beast now. By the gods, I can see the family resemblance!"

Everybody laughed except Annabeth and a few of my other friends.

* * *

My blood began to boil as I watched the scene unfold. Everyone was being cruel to my brothers, yes, I said _brothers_, and myself. I wanted to rip their throats out. I saw Solace and Stoll siblings watching me carefully, waiting for me to go crazy as I've been doing lately, but I was too mad to move.

Yeah, _I,_ had been cruel to the Cyclops, but I had a valid reason. They didn't. They simply hated him because he was different. Hated _us_ because we were different, stronger, and more important. Percy's heart throbbed painfully hard, causing pain to flare up in my chest. The Cyclops didn't even seem to realize he was the center of everyone's taunting and bullying. He was too busy acting like a three year old.

My head spun with anger as I watched the trident above the Cyclops' head.

_What, now being claimed is some joke? Something that happens to _monsters_ instead of the demigods that wait their entire lives to be claimed?_ I thought furiously. A _monster_ had just been claimed as my _half-brother. _It was official, I had no respect for Poseidon anymore.

* * *

Tyson didn't seem to notice the others. He was too mystified, trying to swat the glowing trident that was now fading over his head. He was too innocent to understand how much they were making fun of him, how cruel people were.

But I got it.

I had a new cabin mate. I had a monster for a half-brother.


	7. Demon Pigeons Attack

**Okay guys, who do youthink _Marisol_ should end up with? Think of all the PJO characters you know and tell me who you think she should end up with. I'll narrow it down to top three then put up a poll. Leave me the answers in a review with your thoughts? Pretty Please?**

* * *

**Demon Pigeons Attack**

The next few days were torture, just like Tantalus wanted.

First there was Tyson moving into the Poseidon cabin, giggling to himself every fifteen seconds and saying, "Percy is my brother?" like he'd just won the lottery.

"Aw, Tyson," I'd say. "It's not that simple."

But there was no explaining it to him. He was in heaven. And me ... as much as I liked the big guy, I couldn't help feeling embarrassed. Ashamed. There, I said it.

* * *

I spent the next few days avoiding basically everyone except Percy, Annabeth, Will, Blaze, Connor, Travis, and Charlie.

People kept bothering me, treating me something like they did when I was first claimed. Once again, only my group stuck with me, and this time only Luke was missing.

I'd lost all respect for my father, the almighty Poseidon, who barely had my respect in the first place because of the way he'd let me walk by him my entire life not knowing I was his child. He claimed me a mere year ago, and I had never been too happy about it until I was reunited with Percy. If my father had been watching out for me my entire life, he would have _never _claimed a _Cyclops_, but obviously the scars from my past meant nothing to him. Now being his kid seemed more like a joke than anything if he was claiming monsters as his children. What next, would he start claiming seaweed too?

* * *

My father, the all-powerful Poseidon, had gotten moony-eyed for some nature spirit, and Tyson had been the result. I mean, I'd read the myths about Cyclopes. I even remembered that they were often Poseidon's children. But I'd never really processed that this made them my ... family. Until I had Tyson living with me in the next bunk.

And then there were the comments from the other campers. Suddenly, I wasn't Percy Jackson, the cool guy who'd retrieved Zeus's lightning bolt last summer. Now I was Percy Jackson, the poor schmuck with the ugly monster for a brother.

"He's not my _real _brother!" I protested whenever Tyson wasn't around. "He's more like a half-brother on the monstrous side of the family. Like ... a half-brother twice removed, or something."

Nobody bought it.

I admit—I was angry at my dad. I felt like being his son was now a joke.

* * *

I spent most of my time with Travis and Connor now, Will being too busy with planning out his chariot for the races. I told him not to race, that it was too dangerous. I even told Connor, Travis, and Charlie not to race either. Of course, boys were lunk-headed idiots who never listened so they were all racing anyway.

I was staying out of it, because I got the feeling Annabeth would snatch up Percy before I could.

"I really can't believe you're doing this," I grumbled one day, chucking a stone at Will. He laughed, catching the stone and chucking it at the canoe lake, watching it skip seven steps in the water before sinking. We sat together peacefully, watching the slow swishing of the lake.

"I can't believe you're not," he countered. His gave my shoulders a small squeeze, giving me a mega-watt smile. He got his amazing good looks from his hot-heated, but very awesome, dad – not that I was complaining. He was two years older than me, but I'd known him since he was younger so we were pretty close.

Percy was kind of wary when we started dating, last year on the fourth of July, but eventually he warmed up to the idea of his little sister having a boyfriend. Nut that didn't stop my goofy brother from beating the sunshineyness out of Will during sword practice.

"Why is that?" I asked, smiling at him.

"You're Marisol Jackson! You're the girl who _lives_ for danger," he said. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah because being a demigod constantly hunted by monsters _wants_ more danger in life," I said sarcastically. He grinned, pecking my cheek.

"Only you, Jackson," he said breezily. I nudged him playfully.

"Stick a sock in it, Solace," I laughed. He opened his mouth to say something back when someone called my name.

"Mari!" I let out a sigh as I recognized Connor Stoll coming nearer.

* * *

Annabeth tried to make me feel better. She suggested we team up for the chariot race to take our minds off our problems.

Don't get me wrong—we both hated Tantalus and we were worried sick about camp—but we didn't know what to do about it. Until we could come up with some brilliant plan to save Thalia's tree, we figured we might as well go along with the races. After all, Annabeth's mom, Athena, had invented the chariot, and my dad had created horses. Together we would _own _that track.

One morning Annabeth and I were sitting by the canoe lake sketching chariot designs when some jokers from Aphrodite's cabin walked by and asked me if I needed to borrow some eyeliner for my eye ... "Oh sorry, _eyes."_

As they walked away laughing, Annabeth grumbled, "Just ignore them, Percy. It isn't your fault you have a monster for a brother."

"He's _not _my brother!" I snapped. "And he's not a monster, either!"

Annabeth raised her eyebrows. "Hey, don't get mad at me! And technically, he _is _a monster."

"Well _you _gave him permission to enter the camp."

"Because it was the only way to save your life! I mean ... I'm sorry, Percy, I didn't expect Poseidon to _claim _him. Cyclopes are the most deceitful, treacherous—"

"He is not! What have you got against Cyclopes, any-way?"

Annabeth's ears turned pink. I got the feeling there was something she wasn't telling me—something bad.

"Just forget it," she said. "Now, the axle for this chariot—"

"You're treating him like he's this horrible thing," I said. "He saved my life."

Annabeth threw down her pencil and stood. "Then maybe you should design a chariot with _him._"

"Maybe I should."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

* * *

"He hangs around you an awful lot, lately," Will murmured, watching Connor with narrowed eyes. I quirked an eyebrow, glancing between Will and the approaching son of Hermes.

"Is that a problem?" I asked, shrugging his arm off my shoulders and leaning away from him to throw him a look of suspicion.

"He's spending more time with you than _I _am, and _I'm_ your boyfriend," he said casually. "Don't you think there's something wrong with that?"

I stood, staring at him.

"Not when it's your fault," I sputtered. His eyebrows shot up, blue eyes widening in surprise.

"_My _fault?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice and on his face.

"Yeah, you've been so busy preparing yourself to get maimed or killed that I haven't had more than a total of, what, twenty minutes with you in the last few days? I'm pretty sure my being around Connor and Travis more than you is your own fault. I'm not the one using all their free time to set up my death," I shot back angrily.

"Don't even bring Travis in to defend yourself, you've been glued to Connor Stoll since you got back to camp, Marisol. It's like _he's_ your boyfriend," Will accused. My jaw dropped.

"Excuse me, last time I checked he was one of my best friends and I had every right to hang out with him as much as I pleased. You're my boyfriend, not my keeper, Will. And don't you _Marisol_ me when you're to blame." I protested.

"Yeah? Well he looked like more than a friend when you were all wrapped up in his arms a few nights ago on your way to the Hermes cabin," Will shot back. "Care to tell me what went on before you got to the pavilion? Because I noticed you were changed from what you came in to some guy's camp clothes, I'm assuming Connor's."

I stood there in stunned silence before my fury bubbled over and I exploded. Just when Connor finally reached us, too.

"He was holding me because I was trying to run off and keep Chiron hostage here so he wouldn't leave, but I was too busy sobbing my eyes out to even walk. Of course you, oh great boyfriend, were too busy doing whatever to even know how much of a wreck I was. Yes, I was in his clothes because hello I got to camp in a torn up school uniform and my camp clothes were in my cabin. Nothing happened in that cabin, just like nothing happens in your cabin," I said heatedly. His ears turned red and I knew I'd hit a nerve.

"That one's all you," he said. I rolled my eyes. Of course it was all me, I wasn't some easy Aphrodite girl and I was only _thirteen_. Stupid boys and their expectations.

"Whatever, I have to go," I grumbled, grabbing Connor by the wrist and turning. "Let's go."

I stormed off, dragging Connor with me and leaving Will by the lake. We didn't fight like this, ever, despite our tiny arguments over stupid little things, and I knew Will would probably feel bad about this argument of ours. I know I already did.

* * *

She stormed off and left me feeling even worse than before.

The next couple of days, I tried to keep my mind off my problems.

Silena Beauregard, one of the nicer girls from Aphrodite's cabin, gave me my first riding lesson on a pegasus. She explained that there was only one immortal winged horse named Pegasus, who still wandered free somewhere in the skies, but over the eons he'd sired a lot of children, none quite so fast or heroic, but all named after the first and greatest.

Being the son of the sea god, I never liked going into the air. My dad had this rivalry with Zeus, so I tried to stay out of the lord of the sky's domain as much as possible. But riding a winged horse felt different. It didn't make me nearly as nervous as being in an airplane. Maybe that was because my dad had created horses out of sea foam, so the pegasi were sort of ... neutral territory. I could understand their thoughts. I wasn't surprised when my pegasus went galloping over the treetops or chased a flock of seagulls into a cloud.

The problem was that Tyson wanted to ride the "chicken ponies," too, but the pegasi got skittish whenever he approached. I told them telepathically that Tyson wouldn't hurt them, but they didn't seem to believe me. That made Tyson cry.

The only person at camp who had _no _problem with Tyson was Beckendorf from the Hephaestus cabin. The blacksmith god had always worked with Cyclopes in his forges, so Beckendorf took Tyson down to the armory to teach him metalworking. He said he'd have Tyson crafting magic items like a master in no time.

After lunch, I worked out in the arena with Apollo's cabin. Swordplay had always been my strength. People said I was better at it than any camper in the last hundred years, except maybe Luke.

People always compared me to Luke.

I thrashed the Apollo guys easily. I should've been testing myself against the Ares and Athena cabins, since they had the best sword fighters, but I didn't get along with Clarisse and her siblings, and after my argument with Annabeth, I just didn't want to see her.

Plus, there was the fact that my sister was mad at her … boyfriend (insert shudder), who happened to be one of the Apollo boys I thrashed every time. That made my spirits a little lighter.

I went to archery class, even though I was terrible at it, and it wasn't the same without Chiron teaching. In arts and crafts, I started a marble bust of Poseidon, but it started looking like Sylvester Stallone, so I ditched it. I scaled the climbing wall in full lava-and-earthquake mode. And in the evenings, I did border patrol. Even though Tantalus had insisted we forget trying to protect the camp, some of the campers had quietly kept it up, working out a schedule during our free times.

I sat at the top of Half-Blood Hill and watched the dryads come and go, singing to the dying pine tree. Satyrs brought their reed pipes and played nature magic songs, and for a while the pine needles seemed to get fuller. The flowers on the hill smelled a little sweeter and the grass looked greener. But as soon as the music stopped, the sickness crept back into the air. The whole hill seemed to be infected, dying from the poison that had sunk into the tree's roots. The longer I sat there, the angrier I got.

Luke had done this. I remembered his sly smile, the dragon-claw scar across his face. He'd pretended to be my friend, and the whole time he'd been Kronos's number-one servant.

I opened the palm of my hand. The scar Luke had given me last summer was fading, but I could still see it—a white asterisk-shaped wound where his pit scorpion had stung me.

I thought about what Luke had told me right before he'd tried to kill me: _Good-bye, Percy. There is a new Golden Age coming. You won't be part of it._

* * *

I spent the next few days going to my activities and classes, completely avoiding archery and the Apollos because I really didn't want to see Will. Especially after I'd seen him hanging out with an Aphrodite girl, showing her how to shoot a bow. Aphrodite girls never wanted to do _anything_ that involved weapons unless they had a hot instructor they wanted to flirt with.

Of course, that just made me spend even _more_ time with Travis and Connor, which probably made things worse.

"I just can't believe him," I grumbled angrily, looking up at a tendril of water I was playing with. It slithered around in the air like a snake, until I turned it into a Pegasus that I made glide around in the air.

"Well maybe he just isn't right for you?" Connor asked, reaching up lazily to skim his fingers against the pegasus. Water slid down his hand and he sprinkled it on me, causing me to huff. I was using his stomach as a pillow as we lay in the sand on the beach, and so I pressed my head down into his stomach harder in retaliation. He winced, letting out a breath before flexing his abdominal muscles so I couldn't push down on his stomach.

"Damn you boys and your toned abs," I grumbled, giving up. He chuckled and I felt the vibrations rumble through his body.

"Not my fault you're not stronger than me," he smirked.

"Remind me again, _who_ pinned _who_ during wrestling yesterday?" I asked, an edge to my playful tone.

"Please," he shot back tauntingly, "I _let_ you win."

"As if!" I cried, sitting up to see him grinning at me as he held back laughter.

"Ah, I love doing that," he sighed. I rolled my eyes.

"Yeah because there isn't enough out there to get me fired up," I said sarcastically.

"Oh there is," he assured me. "Just not in the good way like I do."

I pondered this before I started laughed.

"Alright," I said finally. "I give you that."

"I already had it," he teased. I rolled my eyes, dropping the water pegasus on him. He yelped, sitting up in surprise and gaping at me. I grinned.

"And now you have _that_."

* * *

At night, I had more dreams of Grover. Sometimes, I just heard snatches of his voice. Once, I heard him say: _It's here. _Another time: _He likes sheep._

I thought about telling Annabeth about my dreams, but I would've felt stupid. I mean, _He likes sheep? _She would've thought I was crazy.

The night before the race, Tyson and I finished our chariot. It was wicked cool. Tyson had made the metal parts in the armory's forges. I'd sanded the wood and put the carriage together.

It was blue and white, with wave designs on the sides and a trident painted on the front. After all that work, it seemed only fair that Tyson would ride shotgun with me, though I knew the horses wouldn't like it, and Tyson's extra weight would slow us down.

As we were turning in for bed, Tyson said, "You are mad?"

I realized I'd been scowling.

"Nah. I'm not mad."

He lay down in his bunk and was quiet in the dark. His body was way too long for his bed. When he pulled up the covers, his feet stuck out the bottom. "I am a monster."

"Don't say that."

"It is okay. I will be a _good _monster. Then you will not have to be mad."

I didn't know what to say. I stared at the ceiling and felt like I was dying slowly, right along with Thalia's tree.

"It's just... I never had a half-brother before." I tried to keep my voice from cracking. "It's really different for me. And I'm worried about the camp. And another friend of mine, Grover ... he might be in trouble. I keep feeling like I should be doing something to help, but I don't know what."

Tyson said nothing.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "It's not your fault. I'm mad at Poseidon. I feel like he's trying to embarrass me, like he's trying to compare us or something, and I don't understand why."

I heard a deep rumbling sound. Tyson was snoring.

I sighed. "Good night, big guy."

And I closed my eyes, too.

* * *

*Goodnight Mari,* Percy sighed, voice sleepy. I sighed.

*Goodnight Percy,* I said finally. We hadn't been too nice to each other in the last couple of days, spending more of our time giving each other the silent treatment over our opinions on the Cyclops. I wanted to be nice to him, and to pretend we were okay, but really it seemed more like my relationships with the guys I loved most were being tested to no end lately.

I rolled onto my side and looked at Percy. He slept soundly between me and the Cyclops, but a shiver went down my spine and I felt an eerie sense of nervousness creep into my system.

_Just go to sleep_, I whispered to myself. I shut my eyes, willing myself to go to sleep. Of course, I never listen to myself and so I didn't get a wink of sleep all night. To add to my misfortune, someone decided to sneak over to cabin three for a late night visit.

* * *

In my dream, Grover was wearing a wedding dress.

It didn't fit him very well. The gown was too long and the hem was caked with dried mud. The neckline kept falling off his shoulders. A tattered veil covered his face.

He was standing in a dank cave, lit only by torches. There was a cot in one corner and an old-fashioned loom in the other, a length of white cloth half woven on the frame. And he was staring right at me, like I was a TV program he'd been waiting for. "Thank the gods!" he yelped. "Can you hear me?"

My dream-self was slow to respond.

I was still looking around, taking in the stalactite ceiling, the stench of sheep and goats, the growling and grumbling and bleating sounds that seemed to echo from behind a refrigerator-sized boulder, which was blocking the room's only exit, as if there were a much larger cavern beyond it.

* * *

I heard someone knock on the door and I stiffened, grabbing my dagger from beneath my pillow and sliding out of bed. I threw open the cabin door, dagger at the ready, only to be met by Will Solace. My jaw dropped and I quickly stepped outside, the door clicking shut behind me.

"_What_ are you _doing_ here?" I hissed, setting my dagger on the floor.

"I came to apologize," he said quietly, sitting himself on the porch. I stared at him, slowly sitting beside him.

* * *

"Percy?" Grover said. "Please, I don't have the strength to project any better. You _have _to hear me!"

"I hear you," I said. "Grover, what's going on?"

From behind the boulder, a monstrous voice yelled, "Honeypie! Are you done yet?"

Grover flinched. He called out in falsetto, "Not quite, dearest! A few more days!"

"Bah! Hasn't it been two weeks yet?"

"N-no, dearest. Just five days. That leaves twelve more to go."

The monster was silent, maybe trying to do the math. He must've been worse at arithmetic than I was, because he said, "All right, but hurry! I want to SEEEEE under that veil, heh-heh-heh."

Grover turned back to me. "You have to help me! No time! I'm stuck in this cave. On an island in the sea."

"_Where?"_

"I don't know exactly! I went to Florida and turned left."

"What? How did you—"

* * *

"Apologize?" I asked warily. He nodded, looking at me with nervous eyes.

"I didn't mean to go all crazy, jealous boyfriend on you," he said finally. "It's just that I don't get to see you for nine months, then you come to camp and the first person you talk to is Connor instead of me. I missed you loads Mari, and you made it seem like I was the last person on your mind. I thought I meant more to you than last place."

I stared at him. What? Will Solace, the son of the most arrogant god out there, sounded insecure.

"Will, you weren't the _last_ person on my mind. Yeah, you weren't the first but that was because not only was I attacked and my friends were nearly killed, I came to camp to find everything falling apart, my only fatherly-figure having gotten the boot, and I just happened to run into Connor, quite literally actually, on my way to see Chiron. I was just too busy with all of the sudden problems to go find my boyfriend at the time," I explained. He nodded, glancing down nervously. There was something he wasn't telling me. I'd known him long enough to know that.

"I just … I don't know if we should keep up with ... this," he said finally. I stared at him for what might have been hours, my mind not processing the words I was hearing.

"What?" I choked out finally. He looked up, meeting my eyes sadly.

"Do you think that we should keep this up?" he asked. I stared at him.

* * *

"It's a trap!" Grover said. "It's the reason no satyr has ever returned from this quest. He's a shepherd, Percy! And he _has _it. Its nature magic is _so _powerful it smells just like the great god Pan! The satyrs come here thinking they've found Pan, and they get trapped and eaten by Polyphemus!"

"Poly-who?"

"The Cyclops!" Grover said, exasperated. "I almost got away. I made it all the way to St. Augustine."

* * *

"Will I … I don't know," I managed to say. "I thought we were okay but if you're thinking this I was clearly wrong. We were best friends for a long time, and we've been together almost a year. Do you really want to throw in the towel now and just call it _quits_?"

He shook his head. "No," he said softly. "I don't want that."

"Then why did you bring this up, Will?" I asked quietly, voice trembling. I took too much notice of the word _want_.

"Then what do you want?" I asked, confused. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No, It's not that, I'm just worried that maybe that's what you wanted. I saw you with Stoll on the beach, and how things seemed so easy between you two. I just … I don't know I feel like you're happier with him," he said. I stared at him. I wanted to scream that nothing was going on with me and Connor, and that I was happy with him in the _friend_ kind of way, but my mouth wouldn't move.

* * *

"But he followed you," I said, remembering my first dream. "And trapped you in a bridal boutique."

"That's right," Grover said. "My first empathy link must've worked then. Look, this bridal dress is the only thing keeping me alive. He thinks I smell good, but I told him it was just goat-scented perfume. Thank goodness he can't see very well. His eye is still half blind from the last time somebody poked it out. But soon he'll realize what I am. He's only giving me two weeks to finish the bridal train, and he's getting impatient!"

"Wait a minute. This Cyclops thinks you're—"

"Yes!" Grover wailed. "He thinks I'm a lady Cyclops and he wants to marry me!"

Under different circumstances, I might've busted out laughing, but Grover's voice was deadly serious. He was shaking with fear.

"I'll come rescue you," I promised. "Where are you?"

"The Sea of Monsters, of course!"

* * *

_The Sea of Monsters_, I heard someone say. I stiffened, swallowing hard before glancing back at the cabin door.

"I think you should go," I said quickly, getting to my feet.

"Why? Is this your way of telling me that you are?" he asked, voice laced with sadness. I shook my head.

"No, no. Something's wrong with Percy," I said, watching as the sorrow was replaced by a sense of seriousness.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't know. Can we talk during archery?" I asked quickly. He nodded and I didn't think before I grabbed the neck of his shirt and pulled him toward me. I gave him a more heated kiss than usual, probably because I was so scared of losing him, before I rushed back into my cabin.

* * *

"The sea of _what?"_

"I told you! I don't know exactly where! And look, Percy ... urn, I'm really sorry about this, but this empathy link ... well, I had no choice. Our emotions are connected now. If I die ..."

I focused really hard on Percy, gripping his hand in mine as I tried to get into his head. The problem was, someone was already in there.

_Empathy link . . . if I die . . . _

I swallowed hard, hearing Grover's voice. He had started an Empathy Link with Percy? What the hades was so important it was worth risking my brother's life?

"Wake up," I whispered urgently. "Wake up, Percy."

I flinched as the Cyclops woke up, sitting and looking over at me.

"What is wrong?" he asked worriedly. I was startled by the sound of his voice, looking away from him and at a sleeping Percy.

"Something's happening to Percy. I need him to wake up," I whispered. In a flash, the Cyclops was on Percy's other side, leaning over him worriedly.

* * *

"Don't tell me, I'll die too."

"Oh, well, perhaps not. You might live for years in a vegetative state. But, uh, it would be a lot better if you got me out of here."

"Honeypie!" the monster bellowed. "Dinnertime! Yummy yummy sheep meat!"

Grover whimpered. "I have to go. Hurry!"

"Wait! You said 'it' was here. What?"

But Grover's voice was already growing fainter. "Sweet dreams. Don't let me die!"

The dream faded and I woke with a start. It was early morning. Tyson was staring down at me, his one big brown eye full of concern.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

His voice sent a chill down my back, because he sounded almost exactly like the monster I'd heard in my dream.

The morning of the race was hot and humid. Fog lay low on the ground like sauna steam. Millions of birds were roosting in the trees—fat gray-and-white pigeons, except they didn't coo like regular pigeons. They made this annoying metallic screeching sound that reminded me of submarine radar.

The racetrack had been built in a grassy field between the archery range and the woods. Hephaestus's cabin had used the bronze bulls, which were completely tame since they'd had their heads smashed in, to plow an oval track in a matter of minutes.

There were rows of stone steps for the spectators— Tantalus, the satyrs, a few dryads, and all of the campers who weren't participating. Mr. D didn't show. He never got up before ten o'clock.

"Right!" Tantalus announced as the teams began to assemble. A naiad had brought him a big platter of pastries, and as Tantalus spoke, his right hand chased a chocolate eclair across the judge's table.

"You all know the rules. A quarter-mile track. Twice around to win. Two horses per chariot. Each team will consist of a driver and a fighter. Weapons are allowed. Dirty tricks are expected. But try not to kill anybody!" Tantalus smiled at us like we were all naughty children. "Any killing will result in harsh punishment. No s'mores at the campfire for a week! Now ready your chariots!"

Beckendorf led the Hephaestus team onto the track. They had a sweet ride made of bronze and iron—even the horses, which were magical automatons like the Colchis bulls. I had no doubt that their chariot had all kinds of mechanical traps and more fancy options than a fully loaded Maserati.

The Ares chariot was blood red, and pulled by two grisly horse skeletons. Clarisse climbed aboard with a batch of javelins, spiked balls, caltrops, and a bunch of other nasty toys.

Apollo's chariot was trim and graceful and completely gold, pulled by two beautiful palominos. Their fighter was armed with a bow, though he had promised not to shoot regular pointed arrows at the opposing drivers.

Hermes's chariot was green and kind of old-looking, as if it hadn't been out of the garage in years. It didn't look like anything special, but it was manned by the Stoll brothers, and I shuddered to think what dirty tricks they'd schemed up.

That left two chariots: one driven by Annabeth, and the other by me.

Before the race began, I tried to approach Annabeth and tell her about my dream.

* * *

I walked over to Will nervously, eyeing the gold chariot.

"I still can't believe you're doing this," I said warily. He shrugged.

"My cabin wants to participate, and I'm not letting any of the younger kids get hurt, so it had to be me and Blaze," he said. Blaze nodded, watching me.

"You haven't spoken to me in a week," she grumbled. I sighed.

"Hi Blaze. How have you been?" I asked sarcastically. She made a face, sticking her tongue out at me before hopping into the basket.

"I've been fine, thanks for asking," she said, back to me. I laughed. Only Blaze.

"So, um, about earlier," Will said nervously.

"I really don't want to lose you," I whispered, swallowing as I glanced around to see the Aphrodite girl he flirted with watching us.

"Can we pretend that talk never happened, then?" he asked, hope in his bright blue eyes. I nodded, a flood of relief carrying me to happiness. Okay, that sounded weird. Forget I said that and let's just go with hearing that made me really happy.

"The race is going to start soon, I have to get ready," he said apologetically. I nodded, taking a step forward on my tip toes and wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His arms wound around my waist as he hugged me back and I held onto him tight.

"Please be safe," I begged, voice muffled by his shoulder. He pulled back slightly, dipping his head and giving me a long, sweet kiss.

"I will," he murmured after pulling back. "You should go wish the others good luck." I nodded, looking at Blaze to see her pretending to gag.

"Good luck gagger," I said playfully. She stuck her tongue out once more before she grinned and gave me a double thumbs up. Then I ran off to find the Stolls, another pair of doofuses risking their lives for a stupid game.

* * *

She perked up when I mentioned Grover, but when I told her what he'd said, she seemed to get distant again, suspicious.

"You're trying to distract me," she decided.

"What? No I'm not!"

"Oh, right! Like Grover would just happen to stumble across the _one _thing that could save the camp."

"What do you mean?"

She rolled her eyes. "Go back to your chariot, Percy."

"I'm not making this up. He's in trouble, Annabeth."

She hesitated. I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to trust me. Despite our occasional fights, we'd been through a lot together. And I knew she would never want anything bad to happen to Grover.

"Percy, an empathy link is so hard to do. I mean, it's more likely you really were dreaming."

"The Oracle," I said. "We could consult the Oracle."

Annabeth frowned.

Last summer, before my quest, I'd visited the strange spirit that lived in the Big House attic and it had given me a prophecy that came true in ways I'd never expected. The experience had freaked me out for months. Annabeth knew I'd never suggest going back there if I wasn't completely serious.

Before she could answer, the conch horn sounded.

"Charioteers!" Tantalus called. "To your mark!"

"We'll talk later," Annabeth told me, _"after _I win."

* * *

I reached their old chariot just as they were called to their mark. I reached up and hit both brothers over the head, effectively catching their attention.

"Ow," Travis moaned. "Why do you want to give me a concussion before the race?"

"You're both really big idiots," I said flatly. They grinned.

"You love us anyway," Connor teased, blue eyes sparkling joyously.

"For some unknown reason," I grumbled back. My eyes flickered over to the track, then to them.

"Nervous?" Trav asked. I nodded.

"Please promise me you'll be safe?" I asked, glancing from brother to brother.

"We'll be fine _mom_," Connor joked. I whacked his arm as hard as I could and he yelped.

"I'm serious," I cried, voiced cracking with worry.

"We'll be safe, Mari," Travis said, giving Connor a half-hearted glare. I nodded, throwing my arms around him and hugging him tightly before letting go. He ruffled my hair, causing me to pull a face.

"And you," I said finally, turning to Connor, "_no hurting Percy_. Got it?"

"But that's the whole point of the races!" he whined. "We're _supposed_ to hurt people." I whacked him again and he gave in.

"Promise me, Connor Stoll. Or I _will_ get you back," I threatened. He smirked, holding his arms out to me.

"If I get my good luck hug, I shan't harm a hair on his precious little head," Connor promised. I rolled my eyes, walking into his hug and letting him squeeze me tight. What a goof. I pulled away after a while, smiling at the brothers.

"Good luck out there. Don't get killed." Then I was gone, off to find my own brother.

* * *

As I was walking back to my own chariot, I noticed how many more pigeons were in the trees now—screeching like crazy, making the whole forest rustle. Nobody else seemed to be paying them much attention, but they made me nervous.

Their beaks glinted strangely. Their eyes seemed shinier than regular birds.

Tyson was having trouble getting our horses under control. I had to talk to them a long time before they would settle down.

_He's a monster, lord! _they complained to me.

_He's a son of Poseidon, _I told them. _Just like ... well, just like me._

_No! _they insisted. _Monster! Horse-eater! Not trusted!_

_I'll give you sugar cubes at the end of the race, _I said.

_Sugar cubes?_

_Very big sugar cubes. And apples. Did I mention the apples?_

Finally they agreed to let me harness them.

Now, if you've never seen a Greek chariot, it's built for speed, not safety or comfort. It's basically a wooden basket, open at the back, mounted on an axle between two wheels. The driver stands up the whole time, and you can feel every bump in the road.

The carriage is made of such light _wood _that if you wipe out making the hairpin turns at either end of the track, you'll probably tip over and crush both the chariot and yourself. It's an even better rush than skate boarding.

I took the reins and maneuvered the chariot to the starting line. I gave Tyson a ten-foot pole and told him that his job was to push the other chariots away if they got too close, and to deflect anything they might try to throw at us.

"No hitting ponies with the stick," he insisted.

"No," I agreed. "Or people, either, if you can help it. We're going to run a clean race. Just keep the distractions away and let me concentrate on driving."

"We will win.'" He beamed.

We are _so _going to lose, I thought to myself, but I _had _to try. I wanted to show the others ... well, I wasn't sure what, exactly. That Tyson wasn't such a bad guy? That I wasn't ashamed of being seen with him in public? Maybe that they hadn't hurt me with all their jokes and name-calling?

"Percy!" I heard someone call. I turned on my heel only to be tackled by someone. I only caught a blur of black hair before I hit the ground, Marisol nearly squeezing me to death.

"Oxygen," I coughed. "Need … oxygen." She let me go, sitting up and looking at me.

"Please, _please_, be safe when you race. I knew those kids who got maimed and killed. They were some of the best fighters and charioteers and look where they ended up," she said quickly. "Please don't get hurt."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, surprised by how panicked she seemed. "I'll be fine, Mari. It's just a chariot race." She shook her head, looking like my mom from all the worry.

"They're one of the most dangerous sports from our world. _Promise_ me you'll make it out in one piece," she begged. I didn't get why she was so worried, or panicked, but I promised just to calm her down.

"I'll be fine," I assured her. She fidgeted a little before nodding, giving me one last hug before she darted off.

As the chariots lined up, more shiny-eyed pigeons gathered in the woods. They were screeching so loudly the campers in the stands were starting to take notice, glancing nervously at the trees, which shivered under the weight of the birds. Tantalus didn't look concerned, but he did have to speak up to be heard over the noise.

"Charioteers!" he shouted. "Attend your mark!"

He waved his hand and the starting signal dropped. The chariots roared to life. Hooves thundered against the dirt. The crowd cheered.

Almost immediately there was a loud nasty _crack! _I looked back in time to see the Apollo chariot flip over. The Hermes chariot had rammed into it—maybe by mistake, maybe not.

The riders were thrown free, but their panicked horses dragged the golden chariot diagonally across the track. The Hermes team, Travis and Connor Stoll, were laughing at their good luck, but not for long. The Apollo horses crashed into theirs, and the Hermes chariot flipped too, leaving a pile of broken wood and four rearing horses in the dust.

Two chariots down in the first twenty feet. I loved this sport.

I turned my attention back to the front. We were making good time, pulling ahead of Ares, but Annabeth's chariot was way ahead of us.

She was already making her turn around the first post, her javelin man grinning and waving at us, shouting: "See ya!"

The Hephaestus chariot was starting to gain on us, too.

Beckendorf pressed a button, and a panel slid open on the side of his chariot.

"Sorry, Percy!" he yelled. Three sets of balls and chains shot straight toward our wheels. They would've wrecked us completely if Tyson hadn't whacked them aside with a quick swipe of his pole. He gave the Hephaestus chariot a good shove and sent them skittering sideways while we pulled ahead.

"Nice work, Tyson!" I yelled.

"Birds!" he cried.

"What?"

We were whipping along so fast it was hard to hear or see anything, but Tyson pointed toward the woods and I saw what he was worried about. The pigeons had risen from the trees. They were spiraling like a huge tornado, heading toward the track.

_No big deal, _I told myself. _They're just pigeons._

I tried to concentrate on the race.

We made our first turn, the wheels creaking under us, the chariot threatening to tip, but we were now only ten feet behind Annabeth. If I could just get a little closer, Tyson could use his pole….

Annabeth's fighter wasn't smiling now. He pulled a javelin from his collection and took aim at me. He was about to throw when we heard the screaming.

The pigeons were swarming—thousands of them dive-bombing the spectators in the stands, attacking the other chariots. Beckendorf was mobbed. His fighter tried to bat the birds away but he couldn't see anything. The chariot veered off course and plowed through the strawberry fields, the mechanical horses steaming.

In the Ares chariot, Clarisse barked an order to her fighter, who quickly threw a screen of camouflage netting over their basket. The birds swarmed around it, pecking and clawing at the fighter's hands as he tried to hold up the net, but Clarisse just gritted her teeth and kept driving. Her skeletal horses seemed immune to the distraction. The pigeons pecked uselessly at their empty eye sockets and flew through their rib cages, but the stallions kept right on running.

The spectators weren't so lucky. The birds were slashing at any bit of exposed flesh, driving everyone into a panic. Now that the birds were closer, it was clear they weren't normal pigeons. Their eyes were beady and evil-looking. Their beaks were made of bronze, and judging from the yelps of the campers, they must've been razor sharp.

* * *

I yelped as I sliced apart birds with my sword. They were everywhere, and they were out for blood. I felt them pecking at my flesh, feasting on my skin as I tried to bat them away. I slashed and slashed, catching dozens among the hundreds. I was surrounded by the screaming of my friends and the shrieking of the birds, my head pounding as one tried to peck all the way through to my skull. I slashed and swatted, but they kept coming. Then I remembered something.

Water bottles were everywhere.

* * *

"Stymphalian birds!" Annabeth yelled. She slowed down and pulled her chariot alongside mine. "They'll strip everyone to bones if we don't drive them away!"

"Tyson," I said, "we're turning around!"

"Going the wrong way?" he asked.

"Always," I grumbled, but I steered the chariot toward the stands.

Annabeth rode right next to me. She shouted, "Heroes, to arms!" But I wasn't sure anyone could hear her over the screeching of the birds and the general chaos.

I held my reins in one hand and managed to draw Riptide as a wave of birds dived at my face, their metal beaks snapping. I slashed them out of the air and they exploded into dust and feathers, but there were still millions of them left. One nailed me in the back end and I almost jumped straight out of the chariot.

Annabeth wasn't having much better luck. The closer we got to the stands, the thicker the cloud of birds became.

Some of the spectators were trying to fight back. The Athena campers were calling for shields. The archers from Apollo's cabin brought out their bows and arrows, ready to slay the menace, but with so many campers mixed in with the birds, it wasn't safe to shoot.

"Too many!" I yelled to Annabeth. "How do you get rid of them?"

She stabbed at a pigeon with her knife. "Hercules used noise! Brass bells! He scared them away with the most horrible sound he could—"

Her eyes got wide. "Percy ... Chiron's collection!"

I understood instantly. "You think it'll work?"

She handed her fighter the reins and leaped from her chariot into mine like it was the easiest thing in the world.

"To the Big House! It's our only chance!"

Clarisse has just pulled across the finish line, completely unopposed, and seemed to notice for the first time how serious the bird problem was.

When she saw us driving away, she yelled, "You're _running? _The fight is here, cowards!"

She drew her sword and charged for the stands.

I urged our horses into a gallop. The chariot rumbled through the strawberry fields, across the volleyball pit, and lurched to a halt in front of the Big House. Annabeth and I ran inside, tearing down the hallway to Chiron's apartment.

* * *

I focused hard, a tug in my gut causing me to hunch over as every water bottle exploded and the water went for the birds. It encased dozens at a time, causing them to explode then disintegrate, repeating the process over and over. I kept this up for a while, but I could feel myself getting tired. Eventually, after I'd killed about a hundred, I collapsed, birds swarming me and pecking at my skin as I tried to fend them off with what little energy I had left.

Then, Percy and Annabeth arrived with … Chiron's boombox?

* * *

His boom box was still on his nightstand. So were his favorite CDs. I grabbed the most repulsive one I could find, Annabeth snatched the boom box, and together we ran back outside.

Down at the track, the chariots were in flames. Wounded campers ran in every direction, with birds shredding their clothes and pulling out their hair, while Tantalus chased breakfast pastries around the stands, every once in a while yelling, "Everything's under control! Not to worry.'"

We pulled up to the finish line. Annabeth got the boom box ready. I prayed the batteries weren't dead.

I pressed PLAY and started up Chiron's favorite—the _All-Time Greatest Hits of Dean Martin. _

Suddenly the air was filled with violins and a bunch of guys moaning in Italian.

The demon pigeons went nuts. They started flying in circles, running into each other like they wanted to bash their own brains out. Then they abandoned the track altogether and flew skyward in a huge dark wave.

"Now!" shouted Annabeth. "Archers!"

With clear targets, Apollo's archers had flawless aim. Most of them could nock five or six arrows at once. Within minutes, the ground was littered with dead bronze-beaked pigeons, and the survivors were a distant trail of smoke on the horizon.

"I'm so … tired," Mari murmured, dragging herself over to us. She was bleeding from several places and before I could react, she fainted.

The camp was saved, but the wreckage wasn't pretty. Most of the chariots had been completely destroyed.

Almost everyone was wounded, bleeding from multiple bird pecks. The kids from Aphrodite's cabin were screaming because their hairdos had been ruined and their clothes pooped on.

"Bravo!" Tantalus said, but he wasn't looking at me or Annabeth. "We have our first winner!" He walked to the finish line and awarded the golden laurels for the race to a stunned-looking Clarisse.

Then he turned and smiled at me. "And now to punish the troublemakers who disrupted this race."


	8. I Accept Gifts From A Stranger

**Okay guys, who do you think _Marisol_ should end up with? Think of all the PJO characters you know and tell me who you think she should end up with. I'll narrow it down to top three then put up a poll. Leave me the answers in a review with your thoughts? Pretty Please?**

**Everyone keeps saying Connor, which I find really entertaining because he isn't really a major character in the original series and shows up maybe like four or five times in total of all the books including the HoO series. I personally was thinking Nico just because I really love his character, but I like the Connor idea too. My cousin keeps teasing me about the "abdominal muscles" of Connor Stoll because she was with me when I typed that it in the last chapter and it was really funny.**

* * *

**I Accept Gifts from a Stranger**

The way Tantalus saw it, the Stymphalian birds had simply been minding their own business in the woods and would not have attacked if Annabeth, Tyson, and I hadn't disturbed them with our bad chariot driving.

This was so completely unfair, I told Tantalus to go chase a doughnut, which didn't help his mood.

He sentenced us to kitchen patrol—scrubbing pots and platters all afternoon in the underground kitchen with the cleaning harpies. The harpies washed with lava instead of water, to get that extra-clean sparkle and kill ninety-nine point nine percent of all germs, so Annabeth and I had to wear asbestos gloves and aprons.

Tyson didn't mind. He plunged his bare hands right in and started scrubbing, but Annabeth and I had to suffer through hours of hot, dangerous work, especially since there were tons of extra plates. Tantalus had ordered a special luncheon banquet to celebrate Clarisse's chariot victory—a full-course meal featuring country-fried Stymphalian death-bird.

The only good thing about our punishment was that it gave Annabeth and me a common enemy and lots of time to talk.

* * *

I sighed as Percy, Annebth, and Clopsy went off to do dishes. At least they hadn't been sentenced to Stable Cleaning Duty. _That_ was gross, and you'd need boots up to your neck to escape unscathed.

I got up from my table, having eaten off of Percy's plate to avoid making more dishes for him, and was met by Connor and Travis, along with Will.

"What do you want to do today?" they asked simultaneously, causing me to jump.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "You choose."

"Pegasus ride," Will said, while they brothers said: "Beach."

They looked at each other and I swallowed. This wouldn't end well.

"Uh," I said nervously. They turned to me, eyes telling me to pick.

"Uh, I think I'll go clean my cabin," I murmured, brushing past the three and rushing off. Of course, I regretted this when I got to my cabin and opened a drawer in my nightstand to find something unpleasant.

* * *

After listening to my dream about Grover again, she looked like she might be starting to believe me.

"If he's really found it," she murmured, "and if we could retrieve it—"

"Hold on," I said. "You act like this ... whatever-it-is Grover found is the only thing in the world that could save the camp. What _is _it?"

"I'll give you a hint. What do you get when you skin a ram?"

"A mess?"

She sighed. _"_A _fleece. _The coat of a ram is called a fleece. And if that ram happens to have golden wool—"

"The Golden Fleece. Are you serious?"

Annabeth scrapped a plateful of death-bird bones into the lava. "Percy, remember the Gray Sisters? They said they knew the location of the thing you seek. And they mentioned Jason. Three thousand years ago, they told _him _how to find the Golden Fleece. You _do _know the story of Jason and the Argonauts?"

"Yeah," I said. "That old movie with the clay skeletons."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh my gods, Percy! You are so hopeless."

"_What?" _I demanded.

"Just listen. The real story of the Fleece: there were these two children of Zeus, Cadmus and Europa, okay? They were about to get offered up as human sacrifices, when they prayed to Zeus to save them. So Zeus sent this magical flying ram with golden wool, which picked them up in Greece and carried them all the way to Colchis in Asia Minor. Well, actually it carried Cadmus. Europa fell off and died along the way, but that's not important."

"It was probably important to her."

*I'm pretty sure it was,* Marisol murmured.

"The _point _is, when Cadmus got to Colchis, he sacrificed the golden ram to the gods and hung the Fleece in a tree in the middle of the kingdom. The Fleece brought prosperity to the land. Animals stopped getting sick. Plants grew better. Farmers had bumper crops. Plagues never visited. That's why Jason wanted the Fleece. It can revitalize any land where it's placed. It cures sickness, strengthens nature, cleans up pollution—"

"It could cure Thalia's tree."

Annabeth nodded. "And it would totally strengthen the borders of Camp Half-Blood. But Percy, the Fleece has been missing for centuries. Tons of heroes have searched for it with no luck."

"But Grover found it," I said. "He went looking for Pan and he found the Fleece instead because they both radiate nature magic. It makes sense, Annabeth. We can rescue him and save the camp at the same time. It's perfect!"

Annabeth hesitated. "A little _too _perfect, don't you think? What if it's a trap?"

I remembered last summer, how Kronos had manipulated our quest. He'd almost fooled us into helping him start a war that would've destroyed Western Civilization.

"What choice do we have?" I asked. "Are you going to help me rescue Grover or not?"

She glanced at Tyson, who'd lost interest in our conversation and was happily making toy boats out of cups and spoons in the lava.

"Percy," she said under her breath, "we'll have to fight a Cyclops. Polyphemus, the _worst _of the Cyclopes. And there's only one place his island could be. The Sea of Monsters."

"Where's that?"

She stared at me like she thought I was playing dumb.

"The Sea of Monsters. The same sea Odysseus sailed through, and Jason, and Aeneas, and all the others."

"You mean the Mediterranean?"

"No. Well, yes ... but no."

"Another straight answer. Thanks."

*Athena is all about questions, not answers. They make you think and figure it out. Ask questions to find answers, that's them,* Mari sighed.

*I've started to figure that out,* I shot back dryly.

"Look, Percy, the Sea of Monsters is the sea all heroes sail through on their adventures. It used to be in the Mediterranean, yes. But like everything else, it shifts locations as the West's center of power shifts."

"Like Mount Olympus being above the Empire State Building," I said. "And Hades being under Los Angeles."

"Right."

"But a whole sea full of monsters—how could you hide something like that? Wouldn't the mortals notice weird things happening ... like, ships getting eaten and stuff?"

"Of course they notice. They don't understand, but they know something is strange about that part of the ocean. The Sea of Monsters is off the east coast of the U.S. now, just northeast of Florida. The mortals even have a name for it."

"The Bermuda Triangle?"

"Exactly."

I let that sink in. I guess it wasn't stranger than any thing else I'd learned since coming to Camp Half-Blood. "Okay ... so at least we know where to look."

"It's still a huge area, Percy. Searching for one tiny island in monster-infested waters—"

"Hey, I'm the son of the sea god. This is my home turf. How hard can it be?"

Annabeth knit her eyebrows. "We'll have to talk to Tantalus, get approval for a quest. He'll say no."

"Not if we tell him tonight at the campfire in front of everybody. The whole camp will hear. They'll pressure him. He won't be able to refuse."

"Maybe." A little bit of hope crept into Annabeth's voice_. _"We'd better get these dishes done. Hand me the lava spray gun, will you?"

That night at the campfire, Apollo's cabin led the sing-along.

They tried to get everybody's spirits up, but it wasn't easy after that afternoon's bird attack. We all sat around a semicircle of stone steps, singing halfheartedly and watching the bonfire blaze while the Apollo guys strummed their guitars and picked their lyres.

We _did _all the standard camp numbers: "Down by the Aegean," "I Am My Own Great-Great-Great-Great-Grandpa," "This Land is Minos's Land."

The bonfire was enchanted, so the louder you sang, the higher it rose, changing color and heat with the mood of the crowd. On a good night, I'd seen it twenty feet high, bright purple, and so hot the whole front row's marshmallows burst into the flames. Tonight, the fire was only five feet high, barely warm, and the flames were the color of lint.

* * *

Dionysus left early. After suffering through a few songs, he muttered something about how even pinochle with Chiron had been more exciting than this. Then he gave Tantalus a distasteful look and headed back toward the Big House.

When the last song was over, Tantalus said, "Well, that was lovely!"

"As if," I murmured to Will, who sat beside me with his guitar. He chuckled lowly, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and allowing me to lean into him.

"Look," Connor, who sat on my other side with Travis, whispered, leaning over to me. "He's trying to eat, _again_." He was right, Tantalus _was_ trying to eat _again_.

He came forward with a toasted marshmallow on a stick and tried to pluck it off, real casual-like. But before he could touch it, the marshmallow flew off the stick. Tantalus made a wild grab, but the marshmallow committed suicide, diving into the flames.

"I think, if Tantalus tried to eat me, I'd jump into the fire too," I giggled. Connor grinned, giving me a nudge as he and Travis snickered at Tantalus.

* * *

Tantalus turned back toward us, smiling coldly. "Now then! Some announcements about tomorrow's schedule."

"Sir," I said.

Tantalus's eye twitched. "Our kitchen boy has some thing to say?"

Some of the Ares campers snickered, but I wasn't going to let anybody embarrass me into silence. I stood and looked at Annabeth. Thank the gods, she stood up with me.

I said, "We have an idea to save the camp."

Dead silence, but I could tell I'd gotten everybody's interest, because the campfire flared bright yellow.

"Indeed," Tantalus said blandly. "Well, if it has anything to do with chariots—"

"The Golden Fleece," I said. "We know where it is."

The flames burned orange. Before Tantalus could stop me, I blurted out my dream about Grover and Polyphemus's island. Annabeth stepped in and reminded everybody what the Fleece could do. It sounded more convincing coming from her.

"The Fleece can save the camp," she concluded. "I'm certain of it."

"Nonsense," said Tantalus. "We don't need saving."

Everybody stared at him until Tantalus started looking uncomfortable.

"Besides," he added quickly, "the Sea of Monsters? That's hardly an exact location. You wouldn't even know where to look."

"Yes, I would," I said.

Annabeth leaned toward me and whispered, "You would?"

I nodded, because Annabeth had jogged something in my memory when she reminded me about our taxi drive with the Gray Sisters. At the time, the information they'd given me made no sense. But now ...

"30, 31, 75, 12," I said.

"Ooo-kay," Tantalus said. "Thank you for sharing those meaningless numbers."

"They're sailing coordinates," I said. "Latitude and longitude. I, uh, learned about it in social studies."

Even Annabeth looked impressed.

Marisol snickered at me. *Social studies? As if,* she giggled. I rolled my eyes at her and we continued on.

"30 degrees, 31 minutes north, 75 degrees, 12 minutes west. He's right! The Gray Sisters gave us those coordinates. That'd be somewhere in the Atlantic, off the coast of Florida. The Sea of Monsters. We need a quest!"

"Wait just a minute," Tantalus said.

But the campers took up the chant. "We need a quest! We need a quest!"

The flames rose higher.

"It isn't necessary!" Tantalus insisted.

"WE NEED A QUEST! WE NEED A QUEST!"

"Fine!" Tantalus shouted, his eyes blazing with anger. "You brats want me to assign a quest?"

"YES!"

"Very well," he agreed. "I shall authorize a champion to undertake this perilous journey, to retrieve the Golden Fleece and bring it back to camp. Or die trying."

* * *

"He'd better take me with him on this quest," I murmured to Will. He looked at me.

"Why are you always so ready to risk your life for him?" he asked with a sigh. I looked up at him.

"You had to go do something dangerous and stupid for _your _family, being the races, and now _I _have to do something stupid for _my_ family," I said pointedly. He sighed.

"I knew that'd come back to get me," he grumbled. I rolled my eyes.

"Damn right," I said. "I'm Marisol Jackson. I never forget."

"Hey, neither do elephants!" He teased. "Any relation there, or is it just with the horses?"

"Funny," I said sarcastically, my lips twitching into a smile against my will. Damn this boy and his ability to make me smile.

* * *

My heart filled with excitement. I wasn't going to let Tantalus scare me. This was what I needed to do. I was going to save Grover and the camp. Nothing would stop me.

"I will allow our champion to consult the Oracle!" Tantalus announced. "And choose two companions for the journey. And I think the choice of champion is obvious."

Tantalus looked at Annabeth and me as if he wanted to flay us alive. "The champion should be one who has earned the camp's respect, who has proven resourceful in the chariot races and courageous in the defense of the camp. _You _shall lead this quest ... Clarisse!"

The fire flickered a thousand different colors. The Ares cabin started stomping and cheering, "CLARISSE! CLARISSE!"

Clarisse stood up, looking stunned. Then she swallowed, and her chest swelled with pride. "I accept the quest!"

"Wait!" I shouted. "Grover is my friend. The dream came to _me."_

"Sit down!" yelled one of the Ares campers. "You had your chance last summer!"

"Yeah, he just wants to be in the spotlight again!" another said.

Clarisse glared at me. "I accept the quest!" she repeated. "I, Clarisse, daughter of Ares, will save the camp!"

* * *

"Are you kidding me? I screamed, standing up and glaring at Clarissa as everyone started up. "Clarisse couldn't save this camp even if _she_ was the Golden Fleece!"

"Whoa there, horsey," Travis said, jumping up and staring at me. "Calm down."

"Clarisse! You're going to get the camp destroyed!" I screamed, struggling as Connor grabbed me for the jillionth time and sat me down. Soon, everyone was taking sides and marshmallows, poor, innocent, marshmallows, went flying everywhere.

* * *

The Ares campers cheered even louder. Annabeth protested, and the other Athena campers joined in. Everybody else started taking sides—shouting and arguing and throwing marshmallows. I thought it was going to turn into a full-fledged s'more war until Tantalus shouted, "Silence, you brats!"

His tone stunned even me.

"Sit down!" he ordered. "And I will tell you a ghost story."

I didn't know what he was up to, but we all moved reluctantly back to our seats. The evil aura radiating from Tantalus was as strong as any monster I'd ever faced.

"Once upon a time there was a mortal king who was beloved of the Gods!" Tantalus put his hand on his chest, and I got the feeling he was talking about himself.

"This king," he said, "was even allowed to feast on Mount Olympus. But when he tried to take some ambrosia and nectar back to earth to figure out the recipe—just one little doggie bag, mind you—the gods punished him. They banned him from their halls forever! His own people mocked him! His children scolded him! And, oh yes, campers, he had horrible children. Children—just—like— you."

He pointed a crooked finger at several people in the audience, including me.

* * *

I swallowed hard as Tantalus pointed at some campers, me being one of them. I was battling anger and fear, because I had a feeling I knew where this was going.

* * *

"Do you know what he did to his ungrateful children?" Tantalus asked softly. "Do you know how he paid back the gods for their cruel punishment? He invited the Olympians to a feast at his palace, just to show there were no hard feelings. No one noticed that his children were missing. And when he served the gods dinner, my dear campers, can you guess what was in the stew?"

No one dared answer. The firelight glowed dark blue, reflecting evilly on Tantalus's crooked face.

"Oh, the gods punished him in the afterlife," Tantalus croaked. "They did indeed. But he'd had his moment of satisfaction, hadn't he? His children never again spoke back to him or questioned his authority. And do you know what? Rumor has it that the king's spirit now dwells at this very camp, waiting for a chance to take revenge on ungrateful, rebellious children. And so ... are there any more complaints, before we send Clarisse off on her quest?"

Silence.

Tantalus nodded at Clarisse. "The Oracle, my dear. Go on."

She shifted uncomfortably, like even _she _didn't want glory at the price of being Tantalus's pet. "Sir—"

"Go!" he snarled.

She bowed awkwardly and hurried off toward the Big House.

"What about you Percy Jackson?" Tantalus asked. "No comments from our dishwasher?"

I didn't say anything. I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of punishing me again. His gaze swiveled over to someone else, and I caught sight of my sister. She was being held in place by Will Solace and one of the Stoll brothers.

Both boys had an arm draped casually around her shoulders, but I could feel the anger radiating off of her in waves, and I knew there was _nothing_ casual about it.

"What about you, little miss no name?" Tantalus asked. She stiffened and I noticed the arms around her tighten.

* * *

How did he know? I thought to myself angrily. Connor and Will had a _painful_ grip on me and I knew I couldn't get free unless I elbowed one of them hard enough.

Several campers held their breath, waiting for me to respond somehow. Then I caught sight of something on the ground. A rock. A small, round, nice, hard rock. I felt the tug in my gut and the rock began to shake, experiencing its own little earth quake. It was launched into the air and it whizzed toward Tantalus. He cocked his head to the side, just as the rock sailed passed.

"Anything?" he asked, watching as the rock sailed past my head. I glared at him, mouh shut.

* * *

"Good," Tantalus said. "And let me remind everyone— no one leaves this camp without my permission. Anyone who tries ... well, if they survive the attempt, they will be expelled forever, but it won't come to that. The harpies will be enforcing curfew from now on, and they are always hungry! Good night, my dear campers. Sleep well."

With a wave of Tantalus's hand, the fire was extinguished, and the campers trailed off toward their cabins in the dark.

* * *

I went to the cabin, Percy and Tyson following. A burst of anger flooded my veins as I stomped in, heading right toward my nightstand. I ripped open the drawer, staring at the iron and celestial bronze dagger. Luke ad given it to me last summer, trying to coax me into joining Kronos and his forces. I refused, and Luke knocked me unconscious before fleeing the scene, having poisoned my brother before knocking me out.

He had poisoned Thalia's tree. He had hurt Percy, and me, and camp. He had done it. It was all his fault.

I reached into my drawer and grabbed it, every intention of hurling it out the window in my mind. The instant fingers curled around the hilt, I felt a sense of confusion.

_We're a family_, a voice whispered in my head. _We have to stick together. You have to join us_. I realized it was Luke's voice. He must have enchanted the dagger. The rage reformed and before I knew what I was doing, I whirled away from the window and hurled the dagger across the room.

Percy yelped, ducking as the dagger dug into the wall - level with his head.

"YOU JERK!" I screamed, Luke's image filling my mind. Percy stood slowly, looking at me.

"I'm sorry," he said unsurely. "Whatever I did I didn't mean it, and I doubt I deserve to die because of it."

I looked at him, not quite sure what just happened. I looked at the dagger, the blade embedded halfway into the abalone wall. I looked back at Percy.

"Oh my gods," I breathed. " I almost killed you."

"Yeah," Percy said nervously. "Good thing I have good reflexes then, huh?"

I stared at the dagger, then back at my brother.

"I'm really sorry," I murmured, going over and yanking the dagger out of the wall. "Really, _really_, sorry, Percy."

"It's fine, Mari. Mind telling me what happened to you?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Maybe later. I'm um, I'm gonna go get some sleep," I muttered, gripping the dagger as I slid under my sheets and closed my eyes.

* * *

I stared at Mari's still figure, so confused I think I reached an undiscovered level of confusion. First, she chucks a dagger at my head, then she goes to sleep?

My sister needs a therapist.

Or an insane asylum.

I couldn't explain things to Tyson. He knew I was sad. He knew I wanted to go on a trip and Tantalus wouldn't let me.

"You will go anyway?" he asked.

"I don't know," I admitted. "It would be hard. Very hard."

"I will help."

"No. I—uh, I couldn't ask you to do that, big guy. Too dangerous."

Tyson looked down at the pieces of metal he was assembling in his lap—springs and gears and tiny wires. Beckendorf had given him some tools and spare parts, and now Tyson spent every night tinkering, though I wasn't sure how his huge hands could handle such delicate little pieces.

"What are you building?" I asked.

Tyson didn't answer. Instead he made a whimpering sound in the back of his throat. "Annabeth doesn't like Cyclopes. You ... don't want me along?"

"Oh, that's not it," I said halfheartedly. "Annabeth likes you. Really."

He had tears in the corners of his eye.

I remembered that Grover, like all satyrs, could read human emotions. I wondered if Cyclopes had the same ability.

Tyson folded up his tinkering project in an oilcloth. He lay down on his bunk bed and hugged his bundle like a teddy bear. When he turned toward the wall, I could see the weird scars on his back, like somebody had plowed over him with a tractor. I wondered for the millionth time how he'd gotten hurt.

"Daddy always cared for m-me," he sniffled. "Now ... I think he was mean to have a Cyclops boy. I should not have been born."

"Don't talk that way! Poseidon claimed you, didn't he? So ... he must care about you ... a lot..."

My voice trailed off as I thought about all those years Tyson had lived on the streets of New York in a cardboard refrigerator box. How could Tyson think that Poseidon had cared for him? What kind of dad let that happen to his kid, even if his kid was a monster?

"Tyson ... camp will be a good home for you. The others will get used to you. I promise."

Tyson sighed. I waited for him to say something. Then I realized he was already asleep.

I lay back on my bed and tried to close my eyes, but I just couldn't. I was afraid I might have another dream about Grover. If the empathy link was real ... if something happened to Grover ... would I ever wake up?

The full moon shone through my window. The sound of the surf rumbled in the distance. I could smell the warm scent of the strawberry fields, and hear the laughter of the dryads as they chased owls through the forest. But something felt wrong about the night—the sickness of Thalia's tree, spreading across the valley.

Could Clarisse save Half-Blood Hill? I thought the odds were better of me getting a "Best Camper" award from Tantalus.

I got out of bed and pulled on some clothes. I grabbed a beach blanket and a six-pack of Coke from under my bunk. The Cokes were against the rules. No outside snacks or drinks were allowed, but if you talked to the right guy in Hermes's cabin and paid him a few golden drachma, he could smuggle in almost anything from the nearest convenience store.

Sneaking out after curfew was against the rules, too. If I got caught I'd either get in big trouble or be eaten by the harpies. But I wanted to see the ocean. I always felt better there. My thoughts were clearer. I left the cabin and headed for the beach.

I spread my blanket near the surf and popped open a Coke. For some reason sugar and caffeine always calmed down my hyperactive brain.

I tried to decide what to do to save the camp, but nothing came to me. I wished Poseidon would talk to me, give me some advice or something.

* * *

I was _just_ about to doze off when I heard the cabin door click shut. I sat up, glancing around.

*Beach again?* I asked, noticing Percy and his blanket were missing.

*Yeah, sorry to wake you,* he said. *Get back to sleep. I get the feeling you could use the rest.* I sighed, nodding before I threw myself back down and buried myself beneath the sheets.

"I know you're awake," I heard a familiar voice say. I yelped, shooting up to see a guest decided to pop in.

"_What_ are you doing here?" I asked sternly, recognizing the figure as my cousin.

"I just came to chat. You have a choice, you know," he said easily. "Mind if we talk outside?" I sighed, slipping out of bed and sliding my sneakers on.

"What do you want?" I asked, dragging myself outside after him.

"To know why you're so set on following after Percy," he said simply. I sighed.

"We've been through this, have we not?" I asked.

"I remember, but you were seven when we had that conversation. It's been six years, I'd like to know if your views have changed," he said. I thought it over.

"Listen, this is the only family I've got. I won't let them get hurt, I won't let them get away. I'm not losing anyone else, it'd kill me if I did. Thalia and Luke were the last straws," I said shortly. He watched me carefully.

"Luke isn't dead," he said.

"He's as good as," I shot back. "He left, he broke is promise. Now he's dead to me."

"Do you really mean that, Marisol?" he asked me. I nodded.

"You can't turn your back on family –"

"He did," I said angrily.

"– No matter how _easy_ they make it seem," he finished, throwing me a pointed look. "If you don't recall, he didn't _want_ to leave you. And, judging by that bracelet on your wrist, you miss him too."

I glanced down at the leather band on my wrist, a silver scripted _L_ glinting in the moonlight. I swallowed hard, glancing away. I had made it for Luke three years ago before he went on a quest, to keep him alive, and he gave it back to me before I went on the Lightening Thief Quest with Percy, to keep me safe. I had never taken it off, and now I was being called out on it.

"Okay, are you trying to tell me I should have gone with Luke?" I snapped. "Because even if he didn't want to go, he _did_. He tried to kill my brother, he tried to kill _me_, and he hurt Thalia. He's _dead_ to me."

He sighed. "And if he died today, you wouldn't be bothered by it?" he asked. I didn't answer. "That's what I thought." I sighed.

"Percy is my main priority. Anyone else comes after him. I'm not sorry about it," I said firmly. He nodded, about to open his mouth when a cellphone went off. He sighed, flashing me an apologetic look before he pulled the phone out and looked at the screen.

Little snakes writhed around the antenna, hissing at me.

"Hey George, hey Martha," I said tiredly.

_Hello sweetie,_ Martha hissed in my head.

_Where are those rats you promised me? _George hissed.

_Leave the poor girl alone, she's in the middle of a conversation,_ Martha hissed at George.

"It's fine," I sighed. "You'll get your rats, George. Eventually, anyway."

"I've got to go soon," he said, snapping the phone shut and stuffing it in his pocket. "Can you do me one favor?"

"You've done me plenty," I said. "So sure. What is it?"

"Don't break my son's heart," he said softly. I stared at him.

"Luke?"

"No, Mari. Connor."

I stared at him a little longer, bewildered. "_Connor_? What does _he_ have to do with any of this?" His phone beeped and he sighed.

"I'm not Aphrodite, so I can't say, but I have to go see your brother now. Get dressed, you'll be leaving soon. Take care of my son, please." Then he got up and jogged off, heading for the beach.

Leaving? Leaving to where?

Silently, I slid back inside and got dressed.

* * *

The sky was clear and starry. I was checking out the constellations Annabeth had taught me—Sagittarius, Hercules, Corona Borealis—when somebody said, "Beautiful, aren't they?"

I almost spewed soda.

Standing right next to me was a guy in nylon running shorts and a New York City Marathon T-shirt. He was slim and fit, with salt-and-pepper hair and a sly smile. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn't figure out why.

My first thought was that he must've been taking a mid night jog down the beach and strayed inside the camp borders. That wasn't supposed to happen. Regular mortals couldn't enter the valley.

But maybe with the tree's magic weakening he'd managed to slip in. But in the middle of the night? And there was nothing around except farmland and state preserves. Where would this guy have jogged from?

"May I join you?" he asked. "I haven't sat down in ages."

Now, I know—a strange guy in the middle of the night. Common sense: I was supposed to run away, yell for help, etc. But the guy acted so calm about the whole thing that I found it hard to be afraid.

I said, "Uh, sure."

He smiled. "Your hospitality does you credit. Oh, and Coca-Cola! May I?"

He sat at the other end of the blanket, popped a soda and took a drink. "Ah ... that hits the spot. Peace and quiet at—"

A cell phone went off in his pocket.

The jogger sighed. He pulled out his phone and my eyes got big, because it glowed with a bluish light. When he extended the antenna, two creatures began writhing around it—green snakes, no bigger than earthworms.

The jogger didn't seem to notice.

He checked his LCD display and cursed. "I've got to take this. Just a sec ..." Then into the phone: "Hello?"

He listened. The mini-snakes writhed up and down the antenna right next to his ear.

"Yeah," the jogger said. "Listen—I know, but... I don't care if he _is _chained to a rock with vultures pecking at his liver, if he doesn't have a tracking number, we can't locate his package... A gift to humankind, great... You know how many of those we deliver—Oh, never mind. Listen, just refer him to Eris in customer service. I gotta go."

He hung up. "Sorry. The overnight express business is just booming. Now, as I was saying—"

"You have snakes on your phone."

"What? Oh, they don't bite. Say hello, George and Martha."

_Hello, George and Martha, _a raspy male voice said inside my head.

_Don't be sarcastic, _said a female voice_._

_Why not? _George demanded. _I do all the _real _work._

"Oh, let's not go into that again!" The jogger slipped his phone back into his pocket. "Now, where were we ... Ah, yes. Peace and quiet."

He crossed his ankles and stared up at the stars. "Been a long time since I've gotten to relax. Ever since the telegraph—rush, rush, rush. Do you have a favorite constellation, Percy?"

I was still kind of wondering about the little green snakes he'd shoved into his jogging shorts, but I said, "Uh, I like Hercules."

"Why?"

"Well ... because he had rotten luck. Even worse than mine. It makes me feel better."

The jogger chuckled. "Not because he was strong and famous and all that?"

"No."

"You're an interesting young man. And so, what now?"

I knew immediately what he was asking. What did I intend to do about the Fleece?

Before I could answer, Martha the snake's muffled voice came from his pocket: _I have Demeter on line two._

"Not now," the jogger said. "Tell her to leave a message."

_She's not going to like that. The last time you put her off, all the flowers in the floral delivery division wilted._

"Just tell her I'm in a meeting!" The jogger rolled his eyes. "Sorry again, Percy. You were saying ..."

"Um ... who are you, exactly?"

"Haven't you guessed by now, a smart boy like you?"

_Show him! _Martha pleaded_. I haven't been full-size for months._

_Don't listen to her! _George said. _She just wants to show off!_

The man took out his phone again. "Original form, please."

The phone glowed a brilliant blue. It stretched into a three-foot-long wooden staff with dove wings sprouting out the top. George and Martha, now full-sized green snakes, coiled together around the middle. It was a caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven.

My throat tightened. I realized who the jogger reminded me of with his elfish features, the mischievous twinkle in his eyes...

"You're Luke's father," I said. "Hermes."

The god pursed his lips. He stuck his caduceus in the sand like an umbrella pole.

"'Luke's father.' Normally, that's not the first way people introduce me. God of thieves, yes. God of messengers and travelers, if they wish to be kind."

_God of thieves works, _George said.

_Oh, don't mind George. _Martha flicked her tongue at me. _He's just bitter because Hermes likes me best._

_He does not!_

_Does too!_

"Behave, you two," Hermes warned, "or I'll turn you back into a cell phone and set you on vibrate! Now, Percy, you still haven't answered my question. What do you intend to do about the quest?"

"I—I don't have permission to go."

"No, indeed. Will that stop you?"

"I want to go. I have to save Grover."

Hermes smiled. "I knew a boy once ... oh, younger than you by far. A mere baby, really."

_Here we go again, _George said. _Always talking about himself_

_Quiet! _Martha snapped. _Do you want to get set on vibrate?_

Hermes ignored them. "One night, when this boy's mother wasn't watching, he sneaked out of their cave and stole some cattle that belonged to Apollo."

"Did he get blasted to tiny pieces?" I asked.

"Hmm ... no. Actually, everything turned out quite well. To make up for his theft, the boy gave Apollo an instrument he'd invented—a lyre. Apollo was so enchanted with the music that he forgot all about being angry."

"So what's the moral?"

"The moral?" Hermes asked. "Goodness, you act like it's a fable. It's a true story. Does truth have a moral?"

"Um ..."

"How about this: stealing is not always bad?"

"I don't think my mom would like that moral."

_Rats are delicious, _suggested George.

_What does that have to do with the story? _Martha demanded.

_Nothing, _George said. _But I'm hungry._

"I've got it," Hermes said. "Young people don't always do what they're told, but if they can pull it off and do something wonderful, sometimes they escape punishment. How's that?"

"You're saying I should go anyway," I said, "even without permission."

Hermes's eyes twinkled. "Martha, may I have the first package, please?"

Martha opened her mouth ... and kept opening it until it was as wide as my arm. She belched out a stainless steel canister—an old-fashioned lunch box thermos with a black plastic top. The sides of the thermos were enameled with red and yellow Ancient Greek scenes—a hero killing a lion; a hero lifting up Cerberus, the three-headed dog.

"That's Hercules," I said. "But how—"

"Never question a gift," Hermes chided. "This is a collector's item from _Hercules Busts Heads. _The first season."

_"Hercules Busts Heads?"_

"Great show." Hermes sighed. "Back before Hephaestus-TV was all reality programming. Of course, the thermos would be worth much more if I had the whole lunch box—"

_Or if it hadn't been in Martha's mouth, _George added.

_I'll get you for that. _Martha began chasing him around the caduceus.

"Wait a minute," I said. "This is a gift?"

"One of two," Hermes said. "Go on, pick it up."

I almost dropped it because it was freezing cold on one side and burning hot on the other. The weird thing was, when I turned the thermos, the side facing the ocean— north—was always the cold side...

"It's a compass!" I said.

Hermes looked surprised. "Very clever. I never thought of that. But its intended use is a bit more dramatic. Uncap it, and you will release the winds from the four corners of the earth to speed you on your way. Not now! And please, when the time comes, only unscrew the lid a tiny bit. The winds are a bit like me—always restless. Should all four escape at once ... ah, but I'm sure you'll be careful. And now my second gift. George?"

_She's touching me, _George complained as he and Martha slithered around the pole.

"She's _always _touching you," Hermes said. "You're intertwined. And if you don't stop that, you'll get knotted again!

The snakes stopped wrestling.

George unhinged his jaw and coughed up a little plastic bottle filled with chewable vitamins.

"You're kidding," I said. "Are those Minotaur-shaped?"

Hermes picked up the bottle and rattled it. "The lemon ones, yes. The grape ones are Furies, I think. Or are they hydras? At any rate, these are potent. Don't take one unless you really, really need it."

"How will I know if I really, really need it?"

"You'll know, believe me. Nine essential vitamins, minerals, amino acids ... oh, everything you need to feel your self again."

He tossed me the bottle.

"Um, thanks," I said. "But Lord Hermes, why are you helping me?"

He gave me a melancholy smile. "Perhaps because I hope that you can save many people on this quest, Percy. Not just your friend Grover."

I stared at him. "You don't mean ... _Luke?"_

Hermes didn't answer.

"Look," I said. "Lord Hermes, I mean, thanks and everything, but you might as well take back your gifts. Luke can't be saved. Even if I could find him ... he told me he wanted to tear down Olympus stone by stone. He betrayed everybody he knew. He—he hates you especially."

Hermes gazed up at the stars. "My dear young cousin, if there's one thing I've learned over the eons, it's that you _can't _give up on your family, no matter how tempting they make it. It doesn't matter if they hate you, or embarrass you, or simply don't appreciate your genius for inventing the Internet—"

"You invented the Internet?"

_It was my idea, _Martha said.

_Rats are delicious, _George said.

"It was _my _idea!" Hermes said. "I mean the Internet, not the rats. But that's not the point. Percy, do you understand what I'm saying about family?"

"I—I'm not sure."

"You will someday." Hermes got up and brushed the sand off his legs. "In the meantime, I must be going."

_You have sixty calls to return, _Martha said.

_And one thousand-thirty-eight e-mails, _George added. _Not counting the offers for online discount ambrosia._

"And you, Percy," Hermes said, "have a shorter deadline than you realize to complete your quest. Your friends should be coming right about ... now."

I heard Annabeth's voice calling my name from the sand dunes. Tyson, too, was shouting from a little bit farther away.

*So, I guess we're going on an adventure,* Mari grumbled. So she was on her way too, then.

"I hope I packed well for you," Hermes said. "I do have some experience with travel."

He snapped his fingers and four yellow duffel bags appeared at my feet.

"Waterproof, of course. If you ask nicely, your father should be able to help you reach the ship."

"Ship?"

Hermes pointed. Sure enough, a big cruise ship was cutting across Long Island Sound, its white-and-gold lights glowing against the dark water.

"Wait," I said. "I don't understand any of this. I haven't even agreed to go!"

"I'd make up your mind in the next five minutes, if I were you," Hermes advised. "That's when the harpies will come to eat you. Now, good night, cousin, and dare I say it? May the gods go with you."

He opened his hand and the caduceus flew into it.

_Good luck, _Martha told me.

_Bring me back a rat, _George said.

The caduceus changed into a cell phone and Hermes slipped it into his pocket.

He jogged off down the beach. Twenty paces away, he shimmered and vanished, leaving me alone with a thermos, a bottle of chewable vitamins, and five minutes to make an impossible decision.


End file.
